A   PERSON 
OF  QUALITY 

ASHTON  HILLIERS 


14QC 


A  Person  of  Quality 


*?>  I 


I   CAME   IN   SIGHT   OF  THE   LAST   MILESTONE-  Page  0!t. 


A   Person   of   Quality 


BY  ASHTON  HILLIERS 


NEW  YORK 

DESMOND  FITZGERALD,  inc. 


Copyright  1907  by 
McClure,  Phillips  &  Co. 

Copyright  1913  by 
Desmond  FitzGcrald,  Inc. 


CONTENTS 


PAfiE 


I.  AN  OLD  FAMILY  AND  A  YOUNG  FOOL       .      .  3 

II.  THE  TOP  OF  A  COACH 12 

III.  I  MAKE  A  NEW  ACQUAINTANCE      ...  26 

IV.  TRIVIALITIES   OF  THE   NORTH   ROAD      .      .  34 
V.  OFFICERS    AND    GENTLEMEN      ....  41 

VI.  A  FRIEND  AT  A  PINCH 62 

VII.  "NEMO  ME   IMPUNE   LACESSIT"      .  72 

VIII.  I  GIVE  MY  PROOFS 78 

IX.  I  CEASE  FROM   BEING  A  MASTER      ...  83 

X.  —  AND  BECOME  A  MAN 93 

XI.  I  COME  UNDER  CONVICTION  OF  SIN      ...  98 

XII.  VISITORS  AND  RESIDENTS           ....  104 

XIII.  ON  THE  BAITING  OF  BULLS  AND  METHO- 

DISTS               .              112 

XIV.  I  AM  TEMPTED  BY  THE  DEVIL      .      .       .       .122 
XV.  THE  FALL  OF  AN  IDOL 128 

XVI.  I  FORGET  GOD 138 

XVII.  MURDER  AT  MIDNIGHT 143 

XVIII.  THE  IRISH 149 

XIX.  WHITE  MAGIC  157 

XX.  GOD  REMEMBERS  ME  ....  161 

XXI.  MY  SECOND  HOME  172 

XXII.  I  BECOME  A  JOURNEYMAN  MILLER  .  .180 

XXIII.  ABEL                184 

XXIV.  THE  MASTER  STAG              190 

XXV.  MORE  OF  MY  FRIEND  ABEL  .       .       .199 

XXVI.  THE  CHURCH  TO  THE  RESCUE                .       .  207 


2136242  I 


CHAPTER  FACE 

XXVII.  THE  LIFTING  OF  THE  CLOUD       .       .       .221 

XXVIII.  AN  ADVENTURE  AND  NEWS          .       .       .  228 

XXIX.  ON  MY  HOME-COMING          ....  236 

XXX.  I  COME  INTO  MY  INHERITANCE          .       .  244 

XXXI.  DINNER  FOR  Two  AND  —  DESSERT           .  258 

XXXII.  THE  MARQUISE  WILLS  IT            ...  289 

XXXIII.  A  COMEDY  OF  ERRORS           .     .^..- •—„..      .  296 

XXXIV.  THE  MESSENGER             309 

XXXV.  THE  MESSAGE          .       .       .       .       .       .'  324 

XXXVI.  AT  THE  "CATHARINE  WHEEL"            .  s    -.'  348 

XXXVII.  WHAT  LAY  UNDER  THE  SHEET        ",       ; '  355 

XXXVIII.  THE  CUP  RUNS  OVER          .       .    •  .       .  372 

XXXIX.  WHOLLY  UNIMPORTANT      *H.      '.    '    ,;   '  -.  395 

XL.  I  ENCOUNTER  A  KNIGHT-£RRANT      '• .      v  399 

XLI.  JUST  A  WOMAN                .       .       .-"'•'';       v  427 


•• 


A  Person  of  Quality 


MEMOIRS   OF  A 

PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

CHAPTER   ONE 
AN  OLD  FAMILY  AND  A  YOUNG  FOOL 


I  WAS  born  upon  the  first  day  of  April,  in  the  year  of  our 
Lord  1777,  at  Bramford  Hall,  my  father's  country 
seat,  some  four  miles  from  Ipswich. 

The  house  is  pleasantly  situate,  the  timber,  both  oak  and 
elm,  growing  large  there;  the  country  well-wooded,  well-tilled, 
and  served  by  narrow  deep  lanes  descending  to  the  highways, 
as  well  as  by  the  New  Navigation  of  the  river  Gipping  going 
soberly  from  weir  to  weir  between  its  willows,  bordered  by 
water  meadows  and  rough  pastures  set  with  little  spinneys, 
cars  and  reed-beds,  where  one  was  sure  of  duck  and  snipe 
after  frost,  and  of  water-hen  all  the  year  round.  On  these 
greens  we  would  get  black  geese  in  hard  weather,  but  they  were 
none  so  easy  to  come  at.  It  was  indeed  an  excellent  sporting 
estate,  full  of  partridge  of  the  old  sort,  for  the  red-leg,  or 
French  bird,  had  not  then  won  the  mastery  and  become  the 
pest  he  is  to-day.  It  was  beside  as  well  stocked  with  hares  as 
any  manor  in  Suffolk,  and  is  so  still. 

As  for  the  Hall,  you  know  the  place,  and  I  need  not  to  describe 
it.  It  has  altered  not  a  whit  since  my  childhood  either  outwardly 
or  in  its  furnishing.  My  father,  the  fifth  earl,  disliking  the 
place,  or  preferring  his  house  in  Clarges  Street,  seldom  saw  it 
when  Parliament  was  sitting  and  made  no  additions.  My 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  OJJALITT 

brother,  your  grandfather,  who  during  his  father's  lifetime 
went  by  his  courtesy  title  of  Lord  Bramford,  enjoyed  the 
property  but  a  few  years,  and  was  hardly  in  a  position  to  im- 
prove it.  During  your  father's  minority  I  took  order  that  the 
place  should  be  well  kept  up,  and  have  every  reason  to  believe 
my  directions  were  attended  to.  Thus  from  one  cause  and 
another  the  mansion  remains  to-day  very  much  as  it  looked 
(as  I  suppose)  a  century  ago.  The  fig-trees  in  the  walled 
garden  are  larger  and  in  better  bearing  than  when  I  was  little; 
the  yews  are  the  wonder  of  topiarists,  and  were  praised  by  the 
Dutch  officers  in  1816;  I  know  no  finer  hedges  or  more  in- 
genious cutting.  These,  and  the  family  portraits,  are  accessories 
to  a  house  more  precious  than  coat-armour  which  Royalty  may 
grant  or  money  buy. 

The  county,  taken  as  a  whole  —  for  the  Gipping  valley 
cannot  complain  —  is  somewhat  overshadowed  by  more 
prosperous  neighbours,  lacking  the  conveniences  enjoyed  by 
Norfolk  for  collecting  and  exporting  its  malt  and  wool,  and 
being  forestalled  by  Essex  in  the  London  market  in  everything 
which  it  produces.  Hence  we,  the  south  folk,  for  so  the 
name  is  explained,  have  ever  been  rather  comfortable  than 
prosperous,  and  more  kindly  than  clever. 

"Silly  Suffolk "  is  our  by-name,  which  I  have  heard  explained 
as  follows:  The  labouring  men  of  Norfolk  and  Essex,  when  paid 
by  the  week,  are  allowed  to  keep  the  house  upon  a  day  beginning 
with  heavy  rain,  but  the  Suffolk  men  turn  out  however  unpromis- 
ing the  morning  and  work  until  wet  through  before  giving  up. 

Be  that  as  it  may,  I  will  say  that  after  some  experience  of 
labouring  men  in  different  parts  of  England  and  upon  the 
Continent,  and,  as  will  appear  later,  both  in  the  capacities  of 
fellow-labourer  and  of  master,  I  have  not  yet  found  better- 
hearted  or  more  willing  workmen  than  ours  of  Blakenham 
and  Bramford. 

[4] 


CHAPTER  ONE 


Something  of  this  may  be,  and  I  trust  is,  due  to  ourselves 
(I  speak  as  a  Fanshawe).  Our  title  dates,  as  you  know,  from 
the  Restoration,  on  which  occasion  King  Charles  graciously 
recompensed  Sir  Constant  Fanshawe  for  his  fines  and 
sequestrations  with  an  earldom.  Of  his  seven  successors, 
including  my  great  nephew  in  present  enjoyment  of  the  title, 
not  one  has  been  other  than  a  good  landlord  and  a  trusty 
servant  of  his  sovereign.  For  which  we  as  a  family  may  thank 
God,  for,  though  I  say  it,  it  is  a  more  honourable  record  than 
turning  out  six  blackguards  and  a  genius,  as  has  been  the  way  of 
certain  other  stocks,  which  have  been  of  evil  example  to  the 
country  people  around  their  seats. 

But  to  my  story.  Upon  several  occasions  it  has  been  matter 
of  surprise  to  my  younger  relatives  that  I  was  never  (as  they 
supposed)  in  either  of  the  services,  and  gained  such  experiences 
as  I  did  under  the  colours  of  a  foreign  Power. 

Being  by  the  blessing  of  Providence  without  personal  dis- 
qualification, and  of  means  to  support  a  commission,  my 
natural  place  would  seem  to  have  been  in  a  profession  which 
has  always  attracted  the  younger  sons  of  the  nobility.  You 
might  go  farther  and  assume  that  as  a  matter  of  course  I  could 
have  commanded  our  family  influence  for  my  advancement. 
Opportunities  (you  will  be  thinking)  could  hardly  be  want- 
ing in  the  wars  of  the  Revolution  and  with  Buonaparte. 

As  to  the  senior  service,  I  may  say  at  once,  that  at  the  age 
for  entering  the  midshipmen's  mess  I  confessed  to  no  voca- 
tion for  the  sea.  Nor,  indeed,  at  that  time,  nor  for  years  later, 
was  His  Majesty's  Marine  the  fashionable  service  which  the 
victories  and  genius  of  Lord  Nelson  and  Bronte  have  since 
made  it.  It  then  attracted  few  young  gentlemen  of  condition 
save  cadets  of  well-known  sea  families  such  as  the  Seymours 
and  the  Keppels,  who  naturally  played  into  one  another's 
hands  as  against  interlopers,  and  regarded  all  desirable  posts 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QU4LITT 

and  commands,  whether  ashore  or  afloat,  as  their  perquisites. 

As  my  connection  with  the  sister  service  was  brief  (though 
not  discreditable,  as  I  have  always  maintained),  I  propose  to 
pass  over  it  in  as  few  words  as  may  be  possible,  having  regard 
to  the  nature  of  the  circumstances  and  the  demands  of 
justice  and  truth. 

Nor  shall  my  pen  (I  am  well  determined)  be  swayed 
either  by  a  sense  of  unmerited  censure,  prejudice,  or  malice, 
nor  by  the  consideration  that  I  am  now,  as  I  think,  the  only 
person  living  who  is  aware  that  I  was  borne  upon  the  rolls  of 
His  Majesty's  (late)  regiment  (the  Fifth  Dragoon  Guards), 
for  five  years  and  seven  months. 

I  was  gazetted  to  a  cornetcy  in  that  unhappy  corps  whilst 
still  a  lower  boy  at  Eton,  and  should  in  the  ordinary  course 
have  joined  the  colours  upon  leaving  the  college,  had  not  a  con- 
stitutional delicacy  which  then  showed  itself  delayed  that  step 
until  my  twenty-first  year,  when,  having  got  my  troop  without 
so  much  as  entering  the  riding-school,  or  acquiring  the  rudi- 
ments of  my  drill,  I  took  the  coach  for  York  where  my  regiment 
lay. 

I  must  confess  that  a  weak  chest  had  been  but  the  excuse, 
the  true  cause  being  my  own  laziness,  maternal  indulgence, 
and  inordinate  devotion  to  field  sports,  more  especially  the 
chase. 

These  three  years,  the  most  vacant  of  my  life,  I  spent  at 
Bramford.  There,  living  the  life  of  a  healthy  brute,  I  ate,  drank, 
slept  and  hunted,  without  using  my  brains  at  all,  or  being  con- 
scious of  neglected  duties,  or  even  of  possessing  a  spiritual 
nature. 

During  this  fallow-time  I  grew  six  inches  and  learned  as 
much  of  the  nature  of  a  horse  as  most  men  acquire  in  a  life- 
time, but  was  otherwise,  as  I  think,  as  uncouth  and  empty  pated 
a  dog  as  any  in  Suffolk. 

[6] 


CHAPTER  ONE 


That  such  a  dereliction  should  have  been  winked  at  by  the 
Horse  Guards  will  seem  a  laxity  almost  incredible  to  those  of 
you  who  have  seen  the  rigid  and  impartial  discipline  introduced 
by  the  lamented  Sir  John  Moore  and  perfected  by  his  Grace  the 
Duke  of  Wellington.  I  can  only  submit  in  excuse  that  my  case 
was  far  from  unusual.  Doubtless  my  father's  interest  was  more 
valuable  to  the  Government  than  the  military  services  of  his 
sons,  for  at  the  time  of  which  I  write  my  elder  brother,  Viscount 
Bramford,  had  been  for  years  a  lieutenant  in  the  Foot  Guards 
without  ever  offering  to  undertake  duties  which  a  chronic 
asthma  rendered  him  incapable  of  performing.  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  he  sold  out  upon  succeeding  to  the  title  without  having 
once  seen  his  company. 

The  order  to  join  when  at  last  it  reached  me  was  couched  in 
terms  which  my  farther  advised  me  not  to  disregard,  and  thus, 
after  some  bustling  weeks  and  much  pleasurable  expense  with 
tradespeople  to  and  fro  from  Ipswich,  I  was  at  length  launched 
upon  a  military  life. 

It  was  winter  (1797  -  1798),  and  the  roads  being  at  that 
season  not  only  foul  but  extraordinarily  unsafe,  and  robbery  of 
stage-wagons  a  daily  occurrence,  my  trunks  were  sent  on  board 
the  "Goole  Trader,"  then  lying  below  Ipswich  at  Pinmill,  on  the 
salt-water,  to  be  forwarded  to  me  at  York,  I  myself  being  ad- 
vised to  travel  light  and  well-armed. 

This  last  was  my  lord's  concern,  and  the  only  part  of  my 
original  outfit  that  is  now  in  my  possession  is  the  case  of  pistols 
of  his  ordering,  by  G.  Bale,  of  the  Cornhill,  Ipswich,  weapons 
which,  after  losing  sight  of  for  years,  I  recovered  through  the 
chance  of  a  friend  recognising  my  crest  and  initials  at  a  sale 
of  unredeemed  pledges. 

Driving  by  way  of  Needham  Market,  Stow  and  Haughley, 
the  Bramford  Hall  horses  were  to  set  me  upon  my  journey  as 
far  as  Bury  St.  Edmunds,  where  I  was  to  lie  the  first  night. 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITT 

We  had  started  betimes  upon  an  early  breakfast.  There  were 
few  to  bid  me  God-speed.  A  keeper  or  two  with  my  cockers 
whining  in  leash,  and  a  groom  or  so,  would  be  there  behind  my 
lord.  He,  as  I  remember,  put  the  pistol-case  in  the  boot  and  the 
pistols  one  in  either  side-pocket  of  my  riding-coat.  Screw- 
barrelled  they  were,  and  he  had  charged  them  himself  the  prev- 
ious afternoon,  and  refitted  the  flints  after  marking  the  deuce 
of  clubs  at  ten  paces  in  the  stable  yard,  and  pronouncing  them 
serviceable  weapons.  "Now,  mind  what  I  say,  George,"  said  he 
at  parting,  " and  'tis  my  last  word:  be  quick  with  your  first 
barrel  but  slow  with  your  second. " 

My  poor  father!  I  thought  of  him  as  of  an  old  man  then;  yet 
here  I  sit,  pen  in  hand  without  glasses,  at  nearly  twice  the  age 
at  which  he  died.  How  little  we  knew  of  one  another!  May  God 
grant  us  opportunity  somehow  and  somewhere  to  make 
better  acquaintance.  Amen! 

And  my  mother  was  there;  ah,  yes;  and  what  would  I  not 
give  to-day  to  have  a  clear  memory  of  her  parting  word  and 
gesture;  but  what  with  the  freshness  of  the  horses,  the  bustle, 
and  a  foolish  kind  of  false  mirth  and  rollicking  off-to-school- 
again  feeling  which  befogged  the  business,  I  cannot  recall  aught 
she  said,  where  she  stood,  nor  how  she  looked. 

At  the  narrowest  of  the  road  near  Blakenham  Checquers 
my  mother's  old  coachman  drew  wide.  A  lady  was  approaching, 
mounted,  followed  by  a  lad  riding  upon  a  woman's  saddle,  from 
which  I  judged  that  madamoiselle  was  testing  her  new  pur- 
chases turn  about.  Staying  us  with  a  gesture,  she  drew  rein 
beside  us,  and  was  about  to  accost  me  when  the  animal  she  rode, 
a  fine  young  iron-grey  blood  horse  with  a  white  fetlock,  broke 
into  an  angry  squeal,  rose  upon  his  hind  feet,  and,  having  thus 
stolen  a  handful  of  rein,  arched  his  back  like  a  cat's  and  sprang 
clear  off  the  ground.  Worse  still,  he  swung  his  quarters  as  he 
rose  and  alighted  sidelong  stiffly  upon  all  four  feet.  Scarce  had 

[8] 


CHAPTER  ONE 


he  touched  ground  ere  he  was  up  again,  and  yet  again,  and 
again,  his  tail  lashing,  his  ears  laid,  discharging  kicks  like  the 
blows  of  a  fighting  man,  sudden  and  dangerous.  Now  he  had 
bucked  himself  off  the  road  into  the  ditch,  now  he  was  out  again, 
up  and  down,  round  and  round,  exhausting  every  artifice  of 
vice  to  unseat  his  rider. 

The  lady  meanwhile,  curtly  forbidding  me  to  alight,  made  a 
brave  fight  for  it.  Her  horse  had  gotten  his  head  down,  and  only 
a  strong  and  dexterous  man  could  have  got  it  up  again;  she 
must,  perforce,  let  him  have  his  play  out,  but  was  minded  to 
keep  her  seat,  and  so  to  improve  the  occasion  that  the  rogue 
should  remember  it.  How  she  leaned  back,  letting  the  sudden 
impulses  of  those  powerful  loins  spend  themselves  in  vain  upon 
the  light,  elastic  tenacity  of  her  body!  Her  hands  were  incess- 
antly at  work  upon  his  mouth,  and  each  caper  was  visited  with 
a  ringing  cut  of  the  whalebone. 

"Sakes  alive!  Master  George,  did  ye  ever  see  the  like  ?  An' 
to  think  that  was  me  as  taught  her  all  that!"  gasped  my  com- 
panion in  radiant  admiration. 

In  two  minutes  the  rebellion  was  beaten  down,  the  rascal 
forced  into  the  ditch  with  his  nose  in  a  holly  and  soundly  pun- 
ished. "Isn't  he  a  fine  beauty,  Mister  George?"  said  my  lady, 
a  little  breathlessly,  bringing  him  back  to  us  at  a  penitential 
pace.  I  had  alighted  and  was  moving  to  meet  her. 

"Yes.  I  shall  call  him  Fox  and  his  earner ade  there,  Pitt; 
this  is  the  handsomer  and  the  naughtier;  the  Opposition,  as 
milord  your  father  would  say,  nest  ce  pas?" 

"  My  father  will  be  reproaching  himself  for  buying  the  brute 
for  you,  mademoiselle  —  marquise,  I  should  say.  You 

frightened  me,  who  have  seen  you  ride  before  this 

You  must  have  risen  early." 

"Oh,  la,  la!  But  about  yourself,  Mister  George;"  she  leaned 
over  her  pommel,  slackening  the  curb  and  caressing  back  into 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALirr 

quietude  the  hot,  throbbing  shoulder,  fixing  me  the  while  with 
her  wonderful  brown  eyes.  "You  are  really  away  at  last  ? 
C'est  bien;  you  have  been  lazy  boy  too  long,"  she  nodded  em- 
phatically, challenging  denial  of  the  charge.  "Well,  that  is 
over,  and  you  will  have  your  misfortunes,  my  friend,  that  is 
evident;  but,  remember,  there  is  one  who  believes  in  you," 
she  nodded  slowly  and  with  gravity,  "and  that  is  Lucille  de 
la  Rochemesnil. " 

Her  right  hand  slid  from  its  gauntlet  and  extended  itself  to 
me;  uncovering,  I  touched  its  finger-tips  with  my  lip.  She  made 
me  a  silent  inclination  and  went. 

We  had  driven  a  mile  without  speaking  when  old  James,  in 
confidential  undertones,  delivered  his  opinion  that  Frenchy  or 
no,  that  there  Miss  Lew-Sill  was  a  downright  strapper,  and 
further,  that  he  would  be  dalled  if  she  hadn't  an  eye  on  me. 

"Why,  James,  ye  old  fool!  whatever  put  that  into  your 
noddle?" 

"That  bein*  here  o'  this  time  o*  the  mornin'  so  far  from 
Sproughton.  That  wor  to  have  the  last  word  wi'  yew,  Master 
George,  on  the  sly,  like:  gals  be  gals,  markee  or  no  markee, 
I  knows  'em,  blessy!" 

"Gammon!"  said  I,  very  hot  and  uncomfortable,  and  what 
is  more,  incredulous.  "Why  look  here,  James,  if  she  has  given 
Bramford  the  mitten  is  it  likely  she  would  set  her  cap  at  me,  a 
younger  son  and  all  ?  But  you  don't  know  her  a  bit,  man,  she 
is  not  that  way.  She  says  she  will  never  marry. " 

"Nor  goo  a-courtin',  neyther?  —  I  'spose  not,  Master 
George!  Then  all  I  says  is  what  be  she  about  alter  darkwi' 
the  Lunnoner  ?"  He  looked  provokingly  knowing,  "  Mister  Wee, 
her  ladyship's  maid  calls  him,  but  Vyze  is  the  gent'lman's  name 
or  nawthin.'  Oho!  Old  James  knows  a  thing  or  two,  sure-ty/  — 
But,  there!  this  here  sort  o'  talk  ain't  for  boys. " 

I  did  not  believe  a  word  of  it,  knowing  something  of  the 

[10] 


CHAPTER  ONE 


coarseness  and  appetite  for  scandal  of  our  servants'  hall. 
Rightly  or  wrongly,  we  debar  the  class  from  education  that  it 
may  serve  us  the  better:  the  system  has  its  merits  and  defects; 
the  vacant  mind  spies  upon  and  diverts  itself  with  our  vices 
and  misrepresents  what  it  can  never  understand. 

The  marquise  I  had  known  from  my  very  boyhood  for  a 
noble  creature  whom  I  had  worshipped  dumbly,  too  far  above 
me  for  affection :  besides,  was  she  not  a  dish  for  my  betters  — 
my  brother  Bramford's  affair  ?  He  -had  asked  her  thrice  in  due 
form  as  a  gentleman  should.  Mr.  Vyze, indeed!  I  knew  the  name, 
the  man  being  my  brother's  racing  partner:  he  had  never  been 
down  to  the  Hall,  my  mother  disliking  the  connection.  Hotly 
incredulous  as  I  was,  I  questioned  my  companion  angrily,  but 
took  nothing  by  it. 

James  was  laughing  inwardly,  a  trick  of  his  which  never 
failed  to  annoy  me.  I  find  —  and  smile  as  I  find  —  that  the 
recollection  of  this  old  fellow's  treatment  of  my  youth  can  still 
give  me  a  passing  twinge.  To  begin  with,  he  resolutely  declined 
to  recognize  my  manhood.  It  was  I  that  should  have  been 
driving,  yet  I  could  only  have  won  the  box-seat  at  the  expense 
of  a  grave  and  doubtful  battle.  After  I  had  turned  thirteen 
had  he  not  threatened  to  spank  me,  aye,  and  to  look 
over  my  head  and  see  my  naked  nose!  Scare-babe  threats,  more 
suited  to  a  child  in  petticoats.  Sleep  sound,  old  James!  Thou 
wast  a  tyrant:  good  servants  not  seldom  are;  but  the  other  sort 
is  —  the  devil! 


[n] 


MEMOIRS   OF  A 

PERSON  OF   QUALITY 


CHAPTER    TWO 
THE    TOP    OF    A    COACH 


THE  following  morning,  having  taken  my  leave  of  old 
James,  whose  honest  brown  face  at  the  moment  of 
parting  was  clouded  with  concern  for  his  young 
master,  I  took  the  stage  for  Huntingdon. 

I  had  booked  me  a  box-seat  over  night  the  better  to  see  the 
country,  and  mounted  in  company  with  two  other  outsides. 
One  was  a  ponderous  person  of  the  grazier  class  bundled  to  the 
eyes  in  horse-cloths  like  a  winter-bedded  hedgehog  in  oak 
leaves.  He  hawked  and  spat  for  some  minutes  at  our  starting 
and  was  ready  with  any  encouragement  or  none  to  have  given 
us  a  strict  account  of  his  complaint.  "That  do  fare  to  sim  like 
this  here  wi'  me"  (says  he)  "when  the  wind  and  the  water 
comes  between  the  bone  and  the  flesh  they  gits  the  better  o'  me." 

The  coachman,  an  elderly  man  of  the  most  civil  address, 
courteously  ignored  the  fellow's  wheezings,  preferring  the  con- 
versation of  the  fare  upon  the  seat  behind  him,  a  smallish  lightly- 
built  man,  apparently  but  little  older  than  myself,  whose  keen, 
self-contained,  dark  face  was  closely  framed  by  the  peak  and 
ear-lappets  of  a  travelling-cap. 

Their  talk  was  horse  —  a  jargon  of  flash  terms,  sires,  ages, 
weights  and  odds,  eked  out  with  nods  and  winks  and  guarded 
whispers. 

[12] 


CHAPTER  TWO 


On  the  skirts  of  Newmarket  Heath,  as  I  remember,  we  passed 
within  a  hundred  yards  of  a  fine  new  gibbet  built  to  accommo- 
date three  malefactors,  but  supporting  but  two  carcasses  '  at 
present,'  as  the  valetudinarian  put  it,  adding  rather  dryly, 
"That  there  'tyke'  hev  giv  um  the  slip  seem'n'ly,  an'  they 
can't  sim  to  lay  hands  on  'um  nohow!" 

"And  won't,  in  my  opinion,  yet  awhile,"  observed  the 
younger  man,  composedly  surveying  the  gallows  over  his 
shoulder  as  the  coach  left  it  behind. 

Nobody  spoke  for  a  time,  the  scene  providing  us  with 
reflections.  I  heard  the  guards  hift  the  blunderbuss  in 
the  wicker  tray  before  him,  and  was  fingering  my  pistols 
when  the  passage  across  the  desolate  white  road  a  furlong 
ahead  of  us  of  a  covey  of  very  large  birds  changed  the  colour 
of  my  thoughts.  Covering  the  ground  between  running  and 
flying,  the  things  fleeted  across  the  brown  heath,  shewing  much 
white  in  the  wing. 

"Harnsers,"1  grunted  the  fat  man  from  the  depths  of  his 
comforter. 

"Bustards,"  curtly  corrected  the  younger  fare. 

The  Ox,  as  I  secretly  named  him,  who  was  of  the  breed 
that  resents  the  slightest  opposition,  rolled  in  his  seat. 

"Them's  harnsers,  I  tell  ye,"  he  squeaked  in  an  irritated 
falsetto,  "  that  sim  yewve  niver  sin  noo  harnsers  wheear  yew 
come  from." 

"Plenty — and  bustards  too  —  on  the  wolds,"  replied  the 
other,  and  stopt. 

The  coachman  blew  out  purple  cheeks,  rapped  an  oath,  and 
drew  his  lash  across  the  leaders,  which  were  going  well.  "Look- 
'ee  there,"  said  he,  "this  here  gap  we  be  a-comin'  tew  is  where 
the  road  cuts  the  Devil's  Dyke;  there  away  on  yer  right  be  Ely 
tower,  ten  mile  off  across  the  fen. " 

1  Hern-shaws  —  Herons .  EDS. 

[13] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF 


We  changed  horses  at  Cambridge.  I  remember  nothing  else 
about  the  place. 

It  was  when  we  were  nearing  the  end  of  the  next  stage,  I 
cannot  recall  which,  for  the  country  along  the  Roman  road  is 
featureless  and  hard  to  bear  in  mind,  we  overtook  a  broad- 
backed  man  jogging  sedately  along  the  grass  margin  of  the 
turnpike  upon  a  short-legged  roan  cob  which  gained  at  once 
the  commendation  of  our  driver. 

"There's  hough-action  for  ye!"  he  cried.  "Do  but  see  how 
he  picks  up  his  feet!  Norfolk  that  for  a  crown.  Marshland  or 
Shales,  damme  if  I  knows  which:  both  is  good  blood.  .  .  . 
Mornin'!  Mr.  Doggett!"  he  bawled,  as  we  drew  level. 

"Mornin'  t'ye!"  came  back  to  us,  muted  by  the  rumble  of 
the  wheels.  The  rider  lifted  a  hard,  red,  preoccupied  face,  which, 
upon  the  instant,  took  on  a  peering  glance  of  enquiry  and  passed 
into  the  distortion  of  anger. 

"Aha!  I  see  ye,  ye  b  —  Northcountry  coper,  you!  Yes,  yew 
as  is  sticking  up  yar  collar!"  with  more  and  worse. 

The  smaller  outside  had  muttered  a  word  about  the  coldness 
of  the  wind  at  the  moment  the  coachman  hailed,  and  was  now 
sitting  with  his  head  bent  and  his  hands  to  his  ears. 

But  the  rider  had  seen  him,  and  shaking  up  his  cob,  a  rare 
stepper,  hung,  as  you  may  say,  to  our  near  forewheel,  brandish- 
ing his  ground-ash  and  bawling  injurious  expressions,  charges 
of  trickery  and  bad  faith,  until  the  insides  drew  up  their  glasses, 
and  a  lady  began  to  scream. 

"Here!  doo  yew  be  quiet  and  hould  yar  noise,  Mr.  Doggett," 
cried  the  guard,  "or  some  o'  my  fares'll  be  mistakin'  ye  for 
what  yew  ain't.  Shet  that  gret  wahpus  o'  yourn,  will  ye  ?  or  I'll 
not  answer  for  any  man's  pistols  but  my  own  !  " 

If  our  fellow  passenger  had  cherished  a  thought  of  conceal- 
ment or  disguise  he  had  plainly  dismissed  it,  and  was  loosening 
the  buttons  of  his  brown  box-cloth  overcoat  with  an  air  of  un- 

[Hi 


CHAPTER  TWO 


concern,  yet,  it  seemed  to  me,  that  over  a  smiling  lip  the  eyes 
had  grown  hard  and  old. 

"Pull  up,  Jack,  I'll  settle  with  him  here,"  said  he,  in  the 
coachman's  ear,  giving  him  a  look  of  mute  reproach. 

"There!  damme,  I'm  sorry;  wholly  forgot!  But,  stop  here? 
couldn't  nohow,  Mr.  Sam.  But,  lookye,  here's  the  change  in 
sight,  and  he's  off  ahead  to  await  ye.  I'll  give  ye  ten  minutes." 

"Ten  ?"  replied  the  youth,  for  he  was  little  more,  with  quiet 
scorn,  and  disengaging  his  feet  from  the  straw  he  drew  off  his 
gloves. 

The  change-house  we  were  approaching  was  just  an  inn 
with  ample  stabling,  the  whole  newly-built  for  its  purpose,  no 
village  happening  to  stand  suitably  for  this  end  of  the  stage. 
(And  now  I  think  on't  it  was  the  Earn  Inn.  ) 

The  rider  had  hitched  his  cob  to  a  post,  and  stood  ready  and 
dancing  with  impatience  as  we  came  to  a  stand.  Too  ready, 
indeed,  for  he  saluted  the  youth  with  a  sounding  thwack  of  the 
ground-ash  before  he  reached  the  ground,  and  gripping  the 
collar  of  his  overcoat  was  for  thrashing  him  soundly  and  out  of 
hand,  undeterred  by  a  general  cry  for  fair  play. 

The  man  was  tall  and  big  and  athletic,  with  rocky,  scarred 
face,  and  wide-lipped  mouth,  underhung  like  a  bull-dog's.  My 
sympathy  was  engaged  for  the  smaller  fellow  caught  thus  at  a 
disadvantage,  but,  surely  seldom  has  man  needed  compassion 
less.  Standing  perfectly  still  he  essayed  to  speak,  but  failing 
to  mitigate  his  accuser's  vehemence,  and  receiving  a  second 
blow,  shook  his  shoulders  and  slipped  out  of  his  two  coats  with 
the  lissomeness  of  an  eel,  and  dexterously  ducking  a  stroke 
aimed  at  his  head,  butted  his  tall  assailant  sharply  below  the 
chest,  caught  him  by  the  hips  as  he  staggered,  locked  his  heels, 
and  flung  him  heavily. 

The  outcry  of  astonishment  and  pleasure  which  arose  from 
the  roof  and  window  of  the  coach,  as  well  as  from  the  momen- 

[15] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 


tarily  increasing  throng  of  stablemen,  fell  to,silence  as  the  fallen 
man  got  to  his  feet,  his  face  no  longer  red  but  mottled  and 
furrowed  with  extreme  emotion. 

"That's  yar  game,  is  it?  Yew  'oon't  take  yar  lickin',  'oon't 
ye  ?  Want  to  fight,  dew  ye  ?  Aha!  Well  now,  yew've  brought 
it  on  yarself,  mind!  I  call  all  on  ye  to  witness  he've  brought  it  on 
hisself!" 

He,  too,  was  out  of  his  coats  in  a  trice,  and  seizing  the 
lappets  of  his  sleeved  waistcoat  tore  the  garment  open  with 
such  force  that  a  shower  of  brass  buttons  flew  amidst  the  crowd. 

Upon  his  side,  the  youth  was  stripping  to  his  shirt  and  smalls, 
and  presently  rolling  up  his  left  sleeve  bared  a  finely  modelled 
forearm,  which  he  as  instantly  reclothed,  hiding  a  design  in  blue, 
worked  with  gunpowder  as  sailors  use,  a  foul  anchor  between 
two  hearts  and  some  initials,  as  it  seemed  to  me.  These 
preparations  he  made  with  an  almost  punctilious  deliberation, 
calling  for  a  chair  whereon  to  place  his  clothing,  and  even 
folding  his  coats. 

His  antagonist  watched  these  finical  arrangements  with 
brutal  impatience,  stroking  the  naked  brawn  of  his  great  arms, 
stamping  up  and  down  the  while,  scowling  and  cursing;  yet, 
when  the  youngster  had  finished  his  toilet  and  put  himself  on 
guard  (so  daunting  is  complete  composure  in  an  unknown 
adversary),  the  aggressor's  impetuosity  had  noticeably  cooled. 

"At  your  service,  Mr.  Doggett,"  said  the  youth,  blowing 
upon  his  nail. 

"Fall  tew!  fall  tew,  gentlemen!"  cried  the  coachman  from 
his  box,  "here's  three  minutes  gone  out  of  yar  ten!" 

"Seven  will  be  more  than  enough,  Jack,"  drawled  the 
younger  man  imperturbably,  and  on  the  last  syllable  flashed  in 
and  out  again,  planting  two  smacking  body-blows  and  ducking 
a  short  swinging  return. 

From  that  moment  it  was  a  foregone  conclusion  as  anyone 

[16] 


CHAPTER  TWO 


could  see.  The  more  active  fighter  did  what  he  chose  with  his 
man,  who  seemed  to  be  something  of  a  local  champion  and  had  a 
dozen  knees  at  his  service  at  the  end  of  the  round.  Nor  did  the 
young  stranger  lack  this  homely  form  of  sympathy;  from  three 
or  four  proffers  he  made  choice  of  a  gaunt,  hatchet-faced  gypsy, 
with  black  curls  and  cat-skin  cap,  silver  ear-rings  and  scarlet 
kerchief  knotted  around  a  yellow  throat. 

Now  my  bottle-holders  at  Eton  had  always  bid  me  spare  my 
breath  and  let  them  do  what  talking  was  needed,  so  that  I 
wondered  the  more  at  the  young  fellow  conversing  with  his 
ruffianly-looking  second  in  low  rapid  tones,  such  words  as  I 
caught  (for  I  stood  close)  being  tinkler's  patter  and  wholly 
unintelligible.  The  gypsy  said  nothing,  but  nodded  repeatedly. 

The  insides  had  begun  betting,  but  presently  were  all  of  the 
same  mind.  The  interest  of  the  ring  was  too  intense  for  shouting; 
one  heard  the  boot-heels  of  the  combatants  crunch  the  gravel, 
their  hard  breathing  and  the  "whack  .  .  .  whack'*  of  the 
blows. 

"Stand  up  to  'im,  neighbour  Doggett;  stand  up  to  'im,bor,an' 
kip  yar  eyes  about  ye.  Lord!  he  hops  round  ye  like  a  cooper 
round  a  cask!"  was  the  ambiguous  encouragement  squeaked  by 
our  over-wrapped  fellow  traveller. 

But  the  big  fellow  was  plainly  helpless;  twice  his  blind  rushes 
landed  him  upon  his  hands  and  knees,  the  youth  slipping  from 
under  him  and  felling  him  as  he  passed.  If  he  stood  on  guard 
he  was  out-boxed  and  pummelled  without  a  chance  of  getting 
anything  for  his  money. 

It  was  a  ludicrous  scene,  and  soon  over.  The  maladroit  bully, 
finding  neither  pleasure  nor  profit  was  to  be  gained  by  persis- 
tence, collapsed  sitting  amidst  uproarious  merriment,  and  re- 
fused to  rise. 

Whether  the  contest  would  have  been  renewed  must  remain 
an  open  question.  The  man  was  more  blown  than  hurt,  and  did 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

not  want  for  encouragement.  Two  of  the  insides  who  had  put 
their  money  upon  him  were  reviling  him  for  his  white  liver  and 
bawling  for  brandy  to  put  heart  into  him.  But  at  this  juncture 
there  stept  into  the  ring  a  middle-aged  man  of  sedate  carriage, 
wearing  a  plain  three-cornered  hat  without  band  or  lace, 
soberly  habited  in  a  horseman's  coat  of  drab  frieze,  which  fell  to 
his  brown  tops.  He  had  but  just  alighted  from  a  gig,  and  from 
the  small  hair-trunk  he  carried  I  judged  that  he  intended  to 
travel  with  us. 

But  he  had  business  upon  his  hands  first.  Surveying  the 
combatants  with  an  air  of  grave,  kindly  concern,  he  addressed 
himself  to  the  discomfited  sitter.  "Friend  Doggett,  I  am 
grieved  to  see  thee  in  this  plight.  Thou  hast  plainly  made  a  mis- 
take. Come,  my  friend,  thou  hast  had  enough  of  this  folly;  be 
advised  by  me,  who,  thou  knowest,  have  only  thine  own  interest 
at  heart,  and  let  the  matter  rest  where  it  is. " 

At  this  there  was  derisive  laughter  and  some  outcry:  the  in- 
sides especially  were  audible  with  their  "  Who  the  this"  and 
"  What  the  that"  making  as  though  they  would  offer  violence 
to  the  interposer,  who,  for  his  part,  paid  those  who  threatened 
him  not  so  much  as  the  compliment  of  a  side  glance,  but 
approached  in  turn  the  young  fighter,  apparently  a  stranger 
to  him,  with  such  courteous  plainness  as  did  not  miss  of  effect. 

"Young  man,"  said  he,  "I  am  but  just  come  upon  the 
ground  and  know  nothing  of  the  merits  of  this  dispute,  but  I  can 
well  believe  that  it  was  not  thou  that  struck  the  first  blow.  It 
will  be  the  easier  for  thee  to  say  thou  art  satisfied,  and,  be- 
lieve me,  nothing  thou  hast  done  will  become  thee  half  so  well! " 

The  gentle  winning  manner  and  almost  fatherly  regard  which 
accompanied  these  words,  bespoke  an  excellent  heart.  The 
youth  changed  countenance,  averted  his  face,  and  lowered  his 
hands. 

This  brought  the  third  inside  to  the  front,  who,  after  seeing 

[It] 


CHAPTER  TWO 


his  wager  as  good  as  won,  found  an  indecisive  battle  probable 
after  all.  Breaking  upon  the  peace-maker  with  horrid  language, 
he  was  for  kicking  him  from  the  ring.  This  the  crowd,  who 
plainly  knew  and  respected  the  man,  would  not  permit,  and  he 
was  allowed  to  take  an  outside  seat  without  molestation,  and 
the  guard  at  this  moment  bidding  his  fares  to  get  in  or  up,  as 
their  cases  might  be,  the  fight  was  drawn  and  all  bets  off. 

The  landlady,  who,  whilst  blows  were  going,  had  approached 
step  by  step,  open-mouthed,  as  if  drawn  by  a  magnet,  now 
regained  her  sense  of  decorum,  and  with  many  "  O  la's  "  and 
"For  shames"  drove  her  maids  before  her within-doors,  box- 
ing the  ear  of  the  slowest. 

The  team  were  already  put-to;  the  victor,  abundantly  congrat- 
ulated and  cheered,  was  helped  into  his  clothes  and  regained 
his  seat.  The  guard  swung  himself  to  the  dicky,  the  horses, 
chilly  from  standing,  went  up  into  their  collars  with  a  will,  and 
the  last  I  saw  of  the  beaten  man  for  that  time  was  his  head  over 
a  stable  bucket. 

"That'll  fare  to  dew  Tom  Doggett  a  heap  o'  good,"  wheezed 
the  over-clothed  passenger,  who  at  the  first  round  had  been  the 
bigger  fellow's  shrillest  applauder.  "A  tarr'ble  overbearing 
high-stomached  'un  be  Tom!  .  .  .  knocked  out  in  five 
minutes  by  a  bit  of  a  booy,  as  one  may  say!  he!  he!  An'  Tom  a 
fighter  for  years  past!" 

"Niver  i'  the  ring  as  I've  heerd  tell  on;  only  acrost  the  table," 
said  the  coachman,  whose  opinion  was  that  a  man  should  stick 
to  his  trade.  "If  a  drives,  let  um  drive;  if  a  rides,  let  um  ride!  and 
if  so  be  a  fights,  let  um  fight  the  way  as  he  is  used  to,  and  not 
goo  foolin'  with  new-fangled  contraptions." 

With  this  for  his  text  he  embarked  upon  the  story  of  "a  young 
feller"  of  his  acquaintance  whose  fall  from  virtue  and  prosperity 
was  due,  he  assured  us,  to  neglect  of  this  maxim. 

It  appeared  that  this  young  man  had  served  in  the  stables  of 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

my  lord  Woodbridge,  and  having  attracted  the  notice  of  his 
lordship  by  his  excellent  hands  and  light  weight,  had  been  pro- 
moted in  town  to  second  horseman,  pad-groom  and  eventual- 
ly coachman.  In  this  position  he  was  thrown  much  into  his 
lordship's  company  during  a  time  when  the  unfortunate  noble- 
man suffered  sorely  with  his  eyes,  and  winning  his  absolute 
confidence,  presently  found  himself  master  of  the  stables. 

"Ah — h!"  breathed  the  stalled  ox  in  his  rug  with  appreciative 
emphasis. 

"Nat'raly  he  did  hisself  well,"  pursued  the  narrator,  "takin' 
custom  when  up  in  town  on  all  corn  and  forage  what  come 
into  his  deparkment.  That  was  all  right,  and  if  he'd  a-stuck  to 
that  he'd  a-died  comfor'ably  off,  for  blind  or  seein',  his  lordship 
kep  it  up  handsome,  and  the  stables  in  Brook  Street  and  Mar- 
tlesham  was  allus  full  o'  hosses. " 

"No  chapmoney  ?"  enquired  a  listener. 

"  In  course  there  was  chapmoney  on  every  horse  he  bought  — 
and  he  was  allus  a  buying.  Ten,  twenty,  thirty  pound  he'd  get 
on  a  hoss,  and  quite  right  tew,  them  was  his  perks  and  that  was 
his  business,  and  if  he'd  only  have  stuck  to  that  — " 

"Get  along,  Jack,  and  cut  your  morals,"  laughed  the  young 
fighter. 

"Well  it  ran  to  the  harness,  to  the  coaches;  to  the  farriery 
and  repairs;  to  the  boots,  breeches  and  liveries  for  hisself  an' 
his  men.  Even  my  lord's  tailor  and  shoemaker  was  brought  to 
book  and  stumped  up  custom  to  this  young  feller  on  what  his 
lordship  wore.  By  this  he'd  a-got  the  household  under  his  thumb 
as  well  as  the  stables;  not  a  man  nor  a  maid  but  forked  out  his 
monthly  scot  or  he'd  a-got  um  the  sack.  My  lord  see  with 
this  young  feller's  eyes  and  heerd  with  his  ears,  and  'most  did 
he  bid  um." 

"Lord!  what  a  che-ance  he  had,  to  be  sure!"  ejaculated  the 
stout  outside  with  an  audible  smack  of  the  lip. 

[20] 


CHAPTER  TWO 


"Fare  to  make  yar  mouth  water,  don't  it,  bor?  Ah!  —  An' 
if  he'd  only  a-stuck  to  his  business  and  kep  honest!  Well; 
what  did  his  lordship  do,  being  a  lonely  widow-man,  but  marry 
agin  —  a  young  'un.  Now  this  young  feller  should  have  gone 
steady  for  a  stage,  and  drove  on  the  bar  till  he  see  if  the  new  pair 
drew  together  and  how  the  coach  travelled;  'stead  o'  which, 
bein'  mortal  confident  and  foolhardy,  on  he  goes  drivin'  on  the 
cheek  same  as  ever.  Round  he  comes  to  the  tradesmen  and  takes 
toll  on  her  ladyship's  frocks  and  shifts  and  slippers. " 

"No!"  cried  the  man's  two  auditors  in  different  tones  of 
delighted  amazement. 

"He  did,  I  tell  ye,  and  it  done  for  him.  Her  ladyship  was  a 
deep  'un.  She  smoked  him —  " 

"How,  Jack?" 

"Through  her  maid.  Yes,  'twas  one  o*  the  maids  blew  the 
gaff,  so  'tis  said;  I  be  proud  'twarn't  a  man.  Anyhow,  smokes 
him  she  does  and  says  nought  for  a  while.  A  deep  'un  she  is, 
but  a  very  silly,  innercent  sort  o'  young  thing  to  look  at,  is  her 
ladyship,  as  I  hears;  one  as  makes  herself  free  and  affable  with 
the  lads,  runs  through  the  stables  wi'  bread  for  this  horse  and 
sugar  for  that  horse,  and  rubs  their  noses  and  larns  their  names. 
And  all  this,  mind  ye,  when  that  pore  young  feller  was  out  with 
his  lordship. 

'  Well,  one  day  that  pore  young  feller  come  in  wi'  a  long 
face  arsting  a  week's  leave  for  to  bury  his  mother  what  had 
died  t'other  side  London;  gets  it,  and  off  he  trots. 

"Next  mornin'  her  ladyship  finds  three  stalls  empty,  and 
hears  from  the  leetlest  and  youngest  boy  as  them  three 
horses  was  gone  for  to  be  sold,  and  how  that  Fred-er-ick 
(Fred-er-ick  being  that  pore  young  feller's  name)  was  gone 
for  to  sell  'em. 

"The  boy  ups  and  lets  it  out  quite  simple.  None  o'  his  lads 
had  no  'spicions.  Fred-er-ick  bought  bosses  and  sold  bosses  an* 

[21! 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

did  just  as  he  damn  pleased,  and  they  all  on  'em  had  understood 
for  years  past  as  his  lordship  was  agreeable. 

"Well,  her  ladyship  being  Norfolk  bred  herself  rec'lecs  as 
Norwifh  fair  was  due,  and  she  ups  and  writes  a  letter  to  her 
brother-in-law  at  Wymondham  and  sits  down  and  waits. 

"By-and-by  back  comes  Fred-er-ick,  and  hears  as  his  lady 
would  like  for  to  see  him.  Up  he  steps  to  her  bow-door  and  finds 
my  lady  alone  and  very  affable.  He  pitches  his  tale  about  his 
pore  mother's  end,  and  the  burying  and  all,  and  what  an  ex- 
pense it  stood  him  in;  and  her  ladyship  nods  and  smiles,  and  says 
that  must  be  considered;  and,  O,  yes,  she  give  him  leave  for  to 
wear  a  crape  band  on  his  livery  sleeve  for  a  month.  Just  as  he 
was  making  his  leg  for  leaving  the  room,  'And  O,  Fred-er-ick,' 
says  she,  'What  has  come  to  them  three  bosses,'  (and  she 
names  'em,  pat)  'as  stood  in  such  and  such  a  stable'  (an' 
she  reels  it  off  straight)  ? 

"'Dead  and  buried,  milady,'  says  Fred-er-ick,  with- 
out turnin'  a  hair,  'the  glanders  they'd  got,  as  is  sartain 
death  to  man  and  beast;  so  I  ups  and  shoots  the  pore 
things,  and  if  you'll  b'lieve  me,  milady,  'twas  a  Christian  end 
they  made.' 

"  'Ah,  pore  creeturs,'  says  she.  'And  are  you  sure  they  didn't 
suffer  ?  Did  ye  do  it  your  very  own  self  ? ' 

"  'I  did,  marm,'  sez  he.  'Never  a  kick,  marm,  arterl  pulled 
the  trigger.  'Twere  sudden  death,  sudden  glory!' ' 

"What  an  ass!  she  had  him  fair!"  muttered  the  young 
fighter,  his  eyes  dancing  in  his  head. 

"'And  where  did  ye  bury  them?'  says  her  ladyship.  'I 
should  like  to  see  the  grave!" 

"Now,  somethink  in  the  woman's  voice  give  that  pore  young 
feller  the  office,  and  he  begun  for  to  lose  his  head.  For  the  life 
on  him  he  couldn't  rec'lec  where  he  buried  them  bosses! 

"  Her  ladyship  watches  him  close  and  quiet,  like  a  cat  at  a 

[22] 


CHAPTER  TWO 


mousehole;    and  'Was   ye   ever   at    Norwich,    Fred-er-ick?' 
says  she. 

'*  'Never  in  all  my  life,  ma'am!'  he  raps. 

"  'That  will  do,'  sez  her  ladyship's  brother-in-law  from 
behind  a  screen  they'd  rigged  across  that  boivdoor,  and  out  he 
come,  and  two  constables  with  him,  as  had  taken  down  that 
pore  young  feller's  words,  and  Fred-er-ick  he  sees  the  game  was 
up,  for  'twas  to  her  ladyship's  own  brother-in-law  as  he  sold 
them  three  hosses  at  Norwich  —  all  unbeknown  —  while 
them  tew  constables,  'guised  as  grooms,  stood  by  and  seen  the 
guineas  told  inter  his  hat!" 

"Well?  What  next?  Go  ahead,  Jack,"  cried  the  audience, 
but  a  moralist  is  not  to  be  hurried. 

"An'  that's  what  come  o'  goin'  outside  his  business  (which 
is  what  I  never  see  no  good  on).  Wi'  everythink  on  earth 
a  callin'  on  that  pore  young  feller  to  goo  straight  and  ac' 
honest,  and  he  a-layin'  by  money  and  a-buying  land  —  land!" 
—  (the  man's  voice  ran  up  into  a  cracked  falsetto  byway 
of  emphasis  )  —  "he  must  needs  goo  and  take  to  a  trade  he 
warn't  brought  up  to,  a  mighty  teeklish  trade  too  is  hoss'- 
stealing —  as  I've  heerd  tell."  He  added  this  last  as  an  after- 
thought. 

"You  don't  say  so?"  remarked  the  young  fighter,  with 
covert  mockery  in  his  tone. 

The  Quaker,  who  during  the  story  had  sat  lost  in  thought, 
glanced  quickly  at  the  speaker,  whose  voice  and  manner  at- 
tracted and  yet  pained  him. 

"And  what  came  next,  Jack?" 

"Steady!  May-ah!''  cried  the  driver,  changing  his  hold 
upon  the  reins  and  using  his  whip  the  better  to  control  the  near 
leader.  The  beast  was  hanging  and  boring  into  her  mate  in 
fear  of  a  line  of  foot-people,  some  kind  of  orocession,  which 
we  were  overtaking. 

[23] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITT 

These  marched  two-and-two,  with  bowed  heads,  shuffling 
along  slowly  through  a  cloud  of  bitter  winter  dust  of  their  own 
raising,  and  were  accompanied  by  an  escort  of  mounted  men 
armed  with  heavy  whips  and  long  bell-mouthed  brass  pistols. 

As  we  drew  abreast  I  was  pained  to  see  that  every  man  of 
this  doleful  company  was  manacled  by  the  wrist  to  a  long 
chain  which  passed  from  end  to  end  of  the  line.  Many  wore 
leg-irons,  not  light  ones,  either,  but  heavy  and  hampering- 
one  might  almost  have  called  them  cruel,  for  the  rags  which 
padded  the  wearer's  ankles  were  embrowned  with  blood. 

I  had  heard  of  these  transportation  chain-gangs,  but  had 
not  come  across  one,  although  the  shipments  to  New  Holland 
had  begun  ten  years  before. 

The  smell  of  these  wretches  and  the  clanking  of  their 
shackles  so  excited  our  leaders  that  after  jibing  well-nigh  into 
the  ditch,  they  swept  us  past  at  a  gallop;  yet  not  so  fast  but  that 
our  driver,  scrutinizing  the  faces  lifted  in  a  kind  of  hopeless 
wonder,  beheld  one  that  he  knew  and  half  raised  his  right 
elbow,  coachman-fashion,  in  token  of  recognition,  whilst  his 
chops  fell  in  pitiful  surprise. 

"  What  come  next ?"  he  echoed  harshly.  What  come  next? 
God  A-mighty!  that  come  next!  S'elp  me,  there  be  Fred-er-ick, 
ninth  from  the  eend,  off-side,  the  limpin'  cove  in  fetters. 
So  they  didn't  hang  the  pore  young  feller,  seem'n'ly  (  He 
were  left  for  death  —  didn't  ye  hear  me  say  ? )  They  frequent 
send  'em  foreign  now.  That  chain  started  from  Norwich 
Castle  a  week  or  more  back,  and'll  tramp  to  Plymouth,  and 
then  they'll  goo  a-shipboard  for  Gawd  knows  where!  Some 
leetle  island,  one  say,  and  another  say  bottom-o'-the-bay, 
and  that's  likeier,  for  ne'er  a  one  comes  back.  Yes,  damme, 
there  goes  the  pore  young  feller  I  was  tellin'  ye  of,  a  livin' 
moniment  of  fullishness,  and  all  through  not  stickin'  to  his 
trade." 

[24] 


CHAPTER  TWO 


"The  poltroon,"  said  the  young  fighter,  with  hardening 
eye,  "To  let  himself  be  taken  —  alive!" 

A  silence  ensued;  each  was  busy  with  his  own  thoughts,  and 
I,  for  one,  felt  some  impatience  when  the  stalled  ox  inconse- 
quently  reverted  to  his  discussion  with  the  driver. 

"Oh,  I  know  what  Tom  Doggett  can  dew,"  he  squeaked, 
"I  sin  urn  fight  myself,  once  at  Bury,  once  at  Newmarket. 
They'd  their  lags  tied  behind  the  trestle.  But  'twarn't  what  you 
might  call  fair  matching  either  time;  his  men  were  light  — 
light.  Yew  handles  yer  fistes  right  smart,  young  feller!"  he 
remarked,  turning  to  his  companion,  evidently  willing  to  stand 
well  with  so  redoubtable  a  boxer,  and  diplomatically  ignoring 
the  ground  of  dispute. 

"Passably,"  replied  the  youth,  and  not  for  the  first  time  I 
was  aware  of  an  unfamiliarity  in  his  dialect  and  intonation. 
He  had  pronounced  the  first  syllable  so  as  to  rhyme  with  mass, 
and  I  listened  for  more.  But  he  spoke  little  and  was  presently 
set  down  at  the  cross-road  to  Hitchin  and  passed  from  my 
sight;  yet  the  dark,  alert,  sharply-cut  face  had  impressed  my 
imagination  and  remained  in  my  mind.  I  questioned  the 
driver.  "  That'll  be  young  Mister  Sam'I  Smith,"  said  he  in 
picked  phrase  which  suggested  that  he  was  concocting  his 
tale.  "That  there  younker  is  a  dealin'-man  as  does  in  malt, 
and  come  from  somewheres  about  Peterboro'.  A  pleasant- 
spoken,  peaceable  young  feller  as  you'd  wish  to  see,"  he  added 
as  though  these  characteristics  of  his  acquaintances  would  bear 
bringing  into  prominence. 


[25] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A 

PERSON   OF  QUALITY 

CHAPTER  THREE 
I  MAKE  A  NEW  ACQUAINTANCE 


A  WRITER  whose  name  escapes  me  has  said  that  "  all 
the  world  is  a  stage,"  discovering,  as  I  suppose,  a 
fanciful  resemblance  between  a  laden  coach  and  the 
globe  itself  speeding  thro*  space  with  its  load  of  humanity, 
agreeable  or  bickering,  amused  or  bored,  each  outside  pursuing 
his  own  journey  engrossed  with  his  private  business,  towards  a 
destination  unknown  to  his  fellow  travellers,  and  presently  to 
relinguish  his  seat  for  ever. 

The  particular  microcosm  upon  which  I  was  now  embarked 
exemplified  this.  It  had  witnessed  the  sudden  outbreak  of  war, 
a  still  more  sudden  patching  up  of  peace,  financial  specula- 
tion without  result,  the  arrival  of  one  passenger  and  the  de- 
parture of  another. 

The  Quaker  had  taken  the  seat  behind  mine.  Soon  after 
starting  I  had  turned  to  him  with  the  intention  of  addressing 
some  commonplace  remark,  but  had  found  him  with  closed 
eyes,  composed  and  inaccessible,  and  had  held  my  peace. 

I  had  put  the  man  down  for  what  he  was  before  he  had  opened 
his  lips,  his  sect  being  well-known  in  the  eastern  counties, 
and  I  since  childhood  familiar  with  its  soberly-clad  adherents 
and  their  meeting-house  in  Peters  Street,  Ipswich:  with  its 
outside,  that  is  to  say,  and  its  tiny  burial-ground  like  a  cloister- 

[26] 


CHAPTER  THREE 


garth  hidden  away  amid  its  buildings  and  walled  in  from  the 
street.  I  had  peered  through  the  seldom-opened  wicket,  and 
may  even  have  envied  the  town-boy  who  cried  "Quack!" 
threw  his  stone  and  ran,  for  no  child  of  a  family  of  our  position, 
no  Eton  boy,  would  have  set  foot  inside  a  dissenter's  chapel. 

As  to  the  beliefs  and  practices  of  the  sect,  I  had  a  vague 
notion  that  their  meetings  were  held  in  a  dreary  silence,  and 
that  for  some  reason  (  presumably  physical  cowardice  or 
calculated  poltroonery),  their  men  refused  to  resent  injuries, 
to  defend  their  women  and  goods,  or  to  bear  arms  at  the  call  of 
their  king. 

My  fellow-traveller's  behaviour  had  unsettled  these  pre- 
conceptions and  had  extorted  my  unwilling  respect.  The  man's 
quiet  hardihood  and  absolute  self-command  attracted  me, 
for  I  myself  would  not  for  forty  pounds  have  crossed  a  fight 
between  strangers.  A  broken  head,  with  the  horse-trough  to 
follow,  were  the  probable  rewards  of  interference  in  such  dis- 
putes. 

That  this  man  had  not  only  escaped  mobbing  by  the  ring, 
but  had  brought  both  principals  and  spectators  to  his  way  of 
thinking,  argued  a  strong  personality. 

At  that  day  fighting  was  the  national  sport,  the  passion, 
preoccupation  and  chief  interest  of  a  large  proportion  of 
Englishmen  of  every  class. 

At  Eton  I  had  fought  as  a  matter  of  course.  My  lifelong 
friendship  with  the  gallant,  the  lamented,  the  Honourble  Robert 
Elwes  Dawnay,  last  Viscount  Wokingham,  originated  in  a 
determined  bout  of  fisticuffs.  The  custom  was  sanctioned  by 
our  masters,  who  watched  and  applauded  these  contests,  their 
presence  stimulating  pluck  and  ensuring  fair  play.  Not  only 
oppidan  and  colleger,  but  every  urchin  at  his  dame-school, 
and  in  the  nursery  itself,  doubled  chubby  fists  upon  the  least 
occasion;  and  mother  or  governess,  whilst  crying  out  upon 

[27] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

the  resultant  black  eyes,  secretly  rejoiced  over  the  stoutness 
of  both  victor  and  vanquished,  whilst  impartially  whipping 
both. 

The  contest  which  I  had  witnessed,  far  from  shocking  me, 
struck  me  as  less  vigorously  pursued,  less  obstinate  and  vin- 
dictive than  many  at  which  I  had  been  present,  and  was  singu- 
lar only  in  its  conclusion. 

It  was  a  day  when  most  gentlemen  boxed  and  supported 
the  art;  when  matches  were  publickly  advertised,  put  up, 
trained  for  and  decided  in  every  county  in  England.  Pugilism 
was,  however,  not  then  the  recognized  profession  which  it 
afterwards  became.  A  class  of  paid  fighting  men  was  indeed 
coming  into  existence,  and,  so  to  say,  demanding  the  recogni- 
tion it  abundantly  obtained  during  the  Regency. 

At  the  time  of  which  I  am  writing  the  laws  of  the  ring  had 
not  been  codified,  nor  the  practice  brought  to  the  perfection 
it  reached  in  the  hands  of  Gentleman  Jackson.  Each  county 
had  its  rules  and  its  methods;  not  only  were  the  size  and  shape 
of  the  ring  undetermined,  but  the  ring  itself  was  far  from 
universal.  In  sea-ports  ( as  on  ship-board )  the  com- 
batants bestrode  a  bench  and  fought  knee  to  knee.  In  the 
midlands  it  was  still  customary  to  strap  the  ankles  of  the 
prizers  Beneath  a  table. 

The  natural  consequence  of  this  universal  brutality,  in 
which  all  classes  participated,  and  from  which  the  Church 
was  not  exempt,1  was  national  hardness  of  heart,  disregard 
for  pain,  whether  effecting  one's  neighbour  or  one's  self,  dead- 
ness  of  sympathy  and  deafness  to  the  cry  of  the  poor.  In  short, 
it  bred  a  callousness  of  nerve  and  a  tendency  in  any  emergency 
or  contest  to  subordinate  convenience,  feeling,  or  even  con- 

'Upon  later  revision  my  Great  Uncle  regretted  this  passage,  and  desired  to  except 
from  this  sweeping  indictment  the  Evangelical  Clergy,  Methodists  and  some  dissent- 
ing sects  unnamed.  Exor. 

[28] 


CHAPrER  THREE 


science,  to  an  over-mastering  resolve  to  keep  one's  hands  up 
and  see  the  thing  through. 

This  combative  habit  had  its  compensations,  and  was  (under 
Providence  )  permitted,  let  us  believe,  in  view  of  that 
truly  tremendous  conflict  in  which,  without  desire  or  choice 
of  its  own,  our  nation  was  already  engaged.  No  race  that  count- 
ed noses  or  cultivated  nerves,  or  regarded  as  conclusive  the 
first  round  (  or  the  twenty-first,  for  that  matter  )  would  have 
come  up  to  time  as  stubbornly  as  did  my  countrymen  during 
those  long  black  years  when  all  the  world  seemed  upon  us, 
which  began  with  the  loss  of  Hanover  and  ended  with  the 
storming  of  Ciudad  Rodrigo. 

For  this  unconscionable  digression  I  can  only  offer  the  ex- 
cuse of  my  grey  hairs  and  a  tendency  to  garrulity  of  which  I 
am  growingly  conscious. 

Let  me  hasten  to  overtake  the  stage,  now  lumbering  along 
the  turnpike  with  the  borough  of  Huntingdon  almost  in 
sight. 

Considering  my  youth  and  country  breeding  I  must  have 
possessed  fair  powers  of  observation.'It  had  occurred  to  me  that 
an  understanding  subsisted  between  our  coachman  and  the 
adroit  young  pugilist,  hence,  when  the  latter,  having  feed  the 
guard,  had  let  himself  down  by  the  wheel,  I  had  watched  his 
departure  with  an  interest  which  had  attracted  the  attention  of 
the  Quaker. 

"May  I  enquire  if  thee  knows  that  young  man  ?"  said  he.  I 
replied  that  I  did  not,  and,  being  weary  of  my  own  company 
and  willing  to  make  further  acquaintance  with  this  singular 
fanatic,  shifted  my  position  to  converse  with  more  ease.  He 
remarked  that  the  youth's  features  were  curiously  familiar, 
but  that  the  circumstances  of  any  previous  meeting  eluded  him. 
Nor  could  he  recall  the  name.  (  We  both  tacitly  rejected  the  one 
supplied  by  the  driver.  )  He  then  gazed  long  at  the  diminishing 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  OJJALITT 

figure  and  when  he  turned  to  me  again,  "That  is  a  young  man 
of  parts,"  said  he,  "an  uncommon  person.  He  has  gifts,  and 
has  had  providences,  and,  unless  I  am  mistaken,  he  is  sinning 
his  mercies,  for  there  goes  with  him  a  savour  of  death  unto 
death. " 

These  words,  spoken  slowly  close  to  my  ear  and  audible  to  me 
alone,  gave  me  a  peculiar  sensation.  Never  had  I  encountered  any 
person  whom  I  could  imagine  using  such  language,  or  taking 
the  view  of  life  which  it  indicated.  ''Gifts,"  "providences," 
"mercies,"  "savours,"  were  not  so  much  the  jargon  of  a  sect 
as  a  novel  dialect  denoting  a  foreignness  of  mind  which,  in  a 
person  of  tried  courage,  did  not  repel  me  as  it  otherwise  might 
have  done. 

Now  that  I  regarded  the  speaker  closely  I  found  him  well 
shaven  and  faultlessly  clean,  with  the  clear  skin  and  eye  of 
abstinent  health.  All  of  his  dress  that  appeared  was  of  good 
material,  serviceable  and  well-brushed,  not  so  much  out  of  the 
mode  as  following  a  fashion  of  its  own. 

But  it  was  the  man's  countenance  that  commended  him  as 
he  bent  over  me,  for  his  seat  was  somewhat  the  higher;  it  was  so 
pleasantly  homely,  so  unembarrassed,  so  honest,  and  as  unaffect- 
edly anxious  to  be  of  service  as  is  the  face  of  a  good  dog  that  fol- 
lows a  worthy  master,  and  (  alas  that  it  should  be  so!  )  what  can 
a  man  say  more  ? 

I  had  made  him  no  reply,  but  my  features,  upon  which  he 
was  bestowing  a  steady  and  kindly  scrutiny,  must  have  en- 
couraged him  to  proceed.  The  door  stood  open  and  he  entered. 

"There  is  a  sin  unto  death,"  he  said  very  lowly,  as  to  himself. 
I  did  not  then  know  that  he  quoted. 

"Yet  he  gave  away  the  fight  upon  your  persuasion,  sir," 
I  observed.  He  fell  a-musing. 

"I  think  it  probable,"  said  he  at  length,  "that  it  was  not 
my  words  but  my  appearance  which  so  put  him  out  of 

[30] 


CHAPTER  THREE 


countenance."  I  stared.  "He  recognized  me  and  feared  —  why, 
I  know  not,  —  lest  I  should  recognize  him. " 

"But,  sir,"  said  I,  "what  had  he  to  fear,  with  all  the 
right  upon  his  side  ?  Nor,  should  I  think  the  loser  will  be 
a  penny  the  worse  for  his  drubbing  at  the  week's  end.  That 
young  man  was  abused  and  beaten  without  reason  before  you 
drove  up." 

"Are  thee  sure  it  was  without  reason  ?  Does  thee  know  what 
has  passed  between  those  men  before  to-day  ?  Thomas  Doggett 
I  know  for  a  proud  man.  He  is  not  of  my  way  of  thinking.  He 
is  hasty  as  to  his  temper;  but  I  have  found  him  just  and  upright 
in  his  dealings.  His  tongue  is  an  unruly  member,  but  not  un- 
truthful." 

This  led  me  to  reflect  that  the  actual  challenge  had  come 
from  the  younger  man  and  that  there  was  some  colour  for  the 
view  that  the  combatant  who  had  worsted  his  adversary  with 
his  fists  had  previously  bested  him  at  a  contest  of  brains. 

The  coachman  and  the  third  outside  were  discussing  the 
merits  of  the  Suffolk  punch,  or  sorreL  Under  cover  of  their 
conversation  my  sober  companion,  whose  wise,  gentle  regard  I 
felt  upon  me,  presently  resumed  his  discourse. 

"We  are  drawing  near  to  Huntingdon,  where  we  shall  part 
with  small  likelihood  of  meeting  again.  I  have  a  word  for  thee. 
It  has  been  shewn  me  that  there  is  a  cloud  overshadowing  thee, 
but  that  there  is  a  silver  lining  to  the  cloud.  Remember  it  is 
the  Divine  ordering  that  clouds  shall  pass,  and  doubt  not  the 
love  of  thy  Heavenly  Father. " 

If  anyone  had  foretold  an  hour  earlier  that  such  a  rigmarole 
warning  would  be  addressed  to  me  on  a  public  vehicle  by  a 
perfect  stranger,  a  low-bred  person  and  a  dissenter,  and  that 
instead  of  resenting  the  impertinence  I  should  take  it  in  ex- 
cellent part  —  if  anyone,  I  say,  had  ventured  to  predict  this, 
I  should  have  laughed  him  to  scorn:  yet,  thus  it  befell;  and  the 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

Quaker  seeing  how  it  stood  with  me,  continued  after  a  brief 
pause: 

"I  have  been  told  that  I  am  a  discerner  of  spirits,  and  indeed 
at  times  I  am  favoured  by  the  Master  to  see  the  conditions  of 
the  hearts  of  those  I  am  thrown  with  and  to  speak  to  their  condi- 
tions in  His  name. 

"I  am  old  enough  to  have  been  thy  father,  and  have  not  long 
since  laid  in  the  grave  a  son  of  about  thy  years.  My  young  friend, 
my  heart  goes  out  to  thee  in  love!  Thou  wilt  ride  rough  waters, 
but  thou  wilt  come  through.  The  floods  shall  not  overflow  thee. " 
His  voice  was  very  low  and  near,  and  rose  and  fell  in  a  kind  of 
breathing  chant.  "Thou  shalt  be  used,  my  son,  and  shall  be  led 
by  the  hand  of  Him  who  bought  thee.  There  is  a  service  set 
apart  for  thee,  and  a  light  within  thee  to  guide  thee;  a  light  of 
which  thou  art  not  yet  aware;  it  shall  broaden  and  brighten 
upon  thy  path;  O,  obstruct  it  not! 

"Thou  hast  but  a  little  strength,  and  art  soon  to  pass  into  a 
dark  room;  do  not  disbelieve  in  the  dark  what  thou  hast  seen  in 
the  light!" 

The  coach  slackened  and  stood.  We  were  in  Huntingdon 
market-place.  I,  so  completely  taken  up  with  my  companion, 
who,  in  this  minute's  space  had  grown  more  intimate  than  my 
mother,  and  had  unlocked  chambers  in  my  heart  of  the  very 
existence  of  which  I  had  been  unconscious,  had  seen  gardens 
and  gables  flow  past  as  in  a  dream.  Now  I  started  as  from  a 
trance,  blinked,  smiled,  and  offered  my  hand;  it  was  taken 
and  held  for  a  moment  in  the  Quaker's  large  firm  grasp,  and 
then  he  was  gone  and  I  had  not  asked  his  name. 

This,  as  I  afterwards  recognized,  was  one  of  the  milestones 
of  my  life.  Until  now  the  varied  shows  of  my  journey  had  found 
me  an  amused  and  indulgent  spectator,  with  an  irresponsible 
guffaw  for  the  comedy  of  things,  and  for  graver  passages  an 
impatient  shrug. 

[32] 


CHAPTER  THREE 


But  this  Quaker  had  left  something  of  himself  with  me  that  I 
could  not  away  with.  I  was  uneasily  conscious  of  the  new  mal- 
ady of  thought.  In  a  word,  I  was  from  this  moment  no  longer 
the  mere  boy. 


[331 


MEMOIRS  OF  A 

PERSON  OF   QUALITY 

CHAPTER  FOUR 
TRIVIALITIES  OF  THE  NORTH  ROAD 


IT  seems  that  I  was  not  to  leave  Huntingdon  without 
my  first  visit  to  the  place  being  suitably  impressed 
upon  my  memory. 

The  North  Star,  upon  which  I  obtained  a  seat,  was  delayed 
by  the  procession  of  javelin-men  escorting  the  circuit  judge 
to  the  Assize. 

As  a  sign  of  respect  to  the  King's  justice,  the  stage  was  drawn 
clear  of  the  road,  and  we  all  got  down  and  uncovered;  some 
lords  justices  were  known  to  be  punctilious,  and  we  had  no 
desire  to  be  ordered  back  into  the  town  to  purge  an  uninten- 
tional contempt  with  humble  apologies  after  hours  of  delay. 

I  need  not  describe  a  pageant  familiar  to  you  all,  suffice  it 
I  was  paying  less  heed  to  the  great  man  himself  than  to  his 
guard,  who  seemed  well-bred  young  fellows  of  my  age,  when 
the  blazon  upon  his  panel  caught  my  eye;  it  was  our  family 
coat  differenced,  or  rather  with  the  badge  of  cadency  added, 
and,  glancing  at  the  occupant  of  the  carriage,  I  beheld  my 
father's  features,  but  sharper  and  paler;  the  calmly-roving  eye 
which  met  mine  was  the  full  dark  Fanshawe  grey  that  you  will 
see  in  the  earlier  Bramford  portraits. 

Upon  enquiry,  I  found  that  I  had  been  watching  the  progress 
of  my  relation,  Sir  Algernon  Maskelyne-Fanshawe,  the  head 

(34] 


CHAPTER  FOUR 


of  the  younger  branch  of  our  house,  between  whom  and  my 
father  an  inherited  suit  in  Chancery  was  pending. 

With  so  palpable  a  barrier  to  friendly  intercourse  between  us, 
it  was  no  wonder  that  we  had  never  met,  yet  I  recalled  remarks 
dropped  by  my  lord  as  to  this  man's  rise  in  the  world.  The 
poverty  to  which  long  litigation  had  reduced  his  parents  had 
stimulated  him  to  exertions  which  had  raised  him  step  by  step  in 
his  profession,  until  he  was  able  to  relinquish  the  largest  income 
of  his  day  at  the  Bar  in  exchange  for  the  ease  of  the  Bench. 

"And  may  wish  himself  back  again,  yet,"  said  my  informant 
under  his  breath,  glancing  sidelong  at  the  back  of  the  slow- 
moving  equipage.  "That  son  of  his,  young  George  —  'Fanny', 
as  his  friends  call  him  —  is  making  the  guineas  fly;  horses, 
gaming,  women,  wagers!  phew!  'Tis  a  pity,  for  the  judge  is  a 
man  of  a  thousand." 

The  consideration  of  what  this  man  had  effected,  the  barriers 
he  had  forced  in  his  unaided  progress  to  the  front,  his  studious 
nights  and  laborious  days,  patience,  abstinence,  constancy, 
affected  me  like  a  rebuke.  I  rated  myself  for  an  idle,  useless  dog, 
and  pondered  what  manner  of  provision  I  could  earn  for  my 
necessities  if  by  any  chance  I  were  brought  to  want.  This  train 
of  enquiry  lowered  still  further  my  self-conceit,  for  I  found  my- 
self ignorant  of  the  rudiments  of  every  single  handicraft,  and 
more  than  doubted  whether  at  the  tightest  pinch  I  could  fit  a 
shoe  to  a  nag's  hoof  if  it  were  ready  forged  to  my  hand;  an  oper- 
ation I  had  watched  and  criticised  a  hundred  times  at  least. 

What  then,  said  I,  could  I  turn  to  ?  Some  livelihood 
there  must  needs  be  for  a  tall  fellow  such  as  I;  something  above 
the  drudgery  of  field  labour  or  the  slavery  of  the  common 
soldier,  a  life  which  I  had  always  heard  condemned  as  the 
most  miserable  of  existences  save  that  of  the  mariner. 

I  decided  at  length  that  should  fortune  forsake  me,  and  I  be 
driven  to  work  for  my  bread,  my  occupation  should  be  about 

[35] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

horses,  not  as  groom  or  coachman,  for  their  service  subjects 
them,  as  I  now  reflected  for  the  first  time,  to  the  caprices 
of  the  most  idle  and  thoughtless  people  in  the  world,  who,  having 
little  to  occupy  them,  must  needs  do  by  night  what  they  might 
more  reasonably  do  by  day,  so  that  their  servants  are  kept  upon 
the  roads  in  darkness  and  hunger  in  all  weathers,  and,  being  un- 
able to  get  regular  meals  or  sleep,  betake  themselves  to  drink. 
"Rather  than  this,"  thought  I,  "I  will  drive  a  stage  wagon;  it  is 
at  least  a  responsible  and,  in  its  way,  an  honourable  calling, 
and  such  a  one  as  that  Quaker  would  approve!"  And  at  this 
I  laughed,  finding  that  the  whole  train  of  thought,  so  uncusto- 
mary in  a  very  thoughtless  young  fellow,  had  been  induced 
by  the  influence  of  this  recent  acquaintance.  Yet,  for  the  rest 
of  the  day  when  we  overtook  or  met  one  of  those  broad- 
wheeled,  slow-moving  wains  with  its  team  of  smoking  shire^ 
breds  lifting  vast  hairy  fetlocks  and  travelling  to  the  music 
of  their  bells,  I  scrutinized  the  faces  of  the  wagoners,  and 
wondered  what  was  passing  in  their  minds,  what  they  earned, 
and  where  they  would  lie  at  night. 

It  was  at  Grantham  or  Newark,  I  cannot  remember  which, 
but  it  was  at  a  town  with  a  mighty  fine  steeple,  that  we  first 
learned  of  the  horse-robberies  further  north.  Small  rudely- 
printed  bills  were  handed  round  in  the  inn-yard,  and  large 
posters  with  fuller  particulars  were  stuck  upon  stable  doors 
and  displayed  in  the  coffee-room. 

It  seemed  that  during  the  previous  month  horses  had  been 
disappearing  from  widely  separated  districts  in  a  manner  at 
present  unexplained.  The  season  being  mild  and  dry,  an  unusual 
number  of  animals  were  still  at  grass  and  under  small  super- 
vision, and  it  was  from  these  the  thieves  had  selected  their 
booty.  Between  twenty  and  twenty-five  valuable  young  horses 
were  missed  from  South  Yorkshire  and  North  Lincolnshire; 
some  of  these  had  been  tracked  into  Thorne  Waste,  but  none 

[36] 


CHAPTER  FOUR 


had  been  recovered.  The  most  had  vanished  strangely  —  been 
spirited  away,  as  one  might  put  it.  Rewards  were  offered,  of 
course,  and  many  a  stubbly  chin  was  rubbed  over  the  matter. 

A  stage  or  two  further  north  we  were  met  by  a  flight  of 
posters  still  sticky  from  the  press.  These  notified  us  of  a  yet 
more  recent  and  daring  crime,  perhaps  a  fortnight  old,  but  dis- 
covered within  the  week. 

The  scene  of  this  felony  was  Holderness,  and  the  sufferer  one 
Sir  Grandison  Constable,  of  Burton  Constable,  a  demesne 
remarkable  for  preserving  a  herd  of  wild  cattle  —  one  of  the  last 
in  Britain,  as  I  have  heard  say.  It  was  from  the  park  itself,  and 
almost  from  under  the  windows  of  the  mansion,  that  fifteen 
four-year-old  blood  horses  had  been  stolen. 

It  was  at  first  believed  that  they  had  strayed,  and,  being  un- 
shod, none  supposed  they  could  travel  far,  and  time  was  wasted 
in  drawing  coverts  in  neighbouring  parishes.  This  hope  was 
abandoned  when  remains  of  charcoal,  hoof-parings,  and  what- 
not were  found  in  a  secluded  spinney,  showing  that  horses 
had  been  cast  and  shod  there  in  clandestine  fashion.  Later  the 
drove  was  tracked  to  Ferriby,  and  there  the  scent  failed,  the 
horse-boat  plying  between  this  place  and  Barton,  on  the  Lin- 
colnshire side  of  the  estuary,  being  missing. 

Our  coachman,  who  professed  to  know  the  district,  gave  it  as 
his  opinion  that  an  attempt  had  been  made  to  put  the  H umber 
between  the  stolen  nags  and  the  hue  and  cry  and  had  succeeded 
only  too  well. 

"Ye  may  lay  yer  lives  this  'ere  is  what  befell,  sirs;  they  got 
'em  aboard,  tied  'em  head-and-tail,  and,  mebbe,  blindfolded 
'em  to  quiet  'em.  The  tide  turned  agin  the  wind,  the  boat  lay 
over,  the  load  shifted,  a  'oss  kicked,  another  kicked,  and  then 
they  was  all  kickin'  like  h — 11,  and  over  went  the  ferry!  And 
Sir  Grandison  or  'ere  a  one  else  as  be  interested  in  they  'osses 
may  find  'em  knockin'  about  the  Dogger  Bank!" 

[37] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QJUALHY 

All  which  seemed  sufficiently  plausible  for  the  most  of  the 
man's  audience,  yet  did  a  doubt  cross  my  mind  too  shadowy  to 
justify  speech.  Having  nothing  better  to  do  I  was  studying  the 
bill  as  I  rode,  and  had  found  in  the  list  of  missing  animals 
descriptions  of  a  matched  pair  of  sixteen-hand  geldings,  iron- 
grey  with  black  points,  each  having  a  white  off  hind-foot. 
Now  it  occurred  to  me  that  the  colour,  though  not  unknown,  is 
unusual  in  blood-stock,  and  further,  that  although  the  ap- 
pearance of  a  single  animal  tallying  with  this  might  admit  of 
explanation  yet  the  occurrence  of  a  pair  was  at  least  suspicious. 
Now,  the  day  before  I  had  left  home  my  father  had  bought 
jus*  such  a  pair  from  an  Ipswich  dealer  on  his  way  from  Nor- 
wich horse-fair  for  our  neighbour  the  Marquise  de  la  Rochemes- 
nil,  an  emigree  of  the  French  noblesse,  who  rented  my  mother's 
dower-house  in  the  adjoining  parish  of  Sproughton.  In  fact, 
it  was  this  pair  I  had  met  upon  the  road  at  my  setting  out, 
and  their  points  were  clearly  in  my  head. 

No  suspicion  of  the  seller  lurked  in  my  mind.  I  knew  him 
for  an  honest  fellow,  as  dealers  go.  If  his  tale  were  true  —  as 
was  as  good  as  certain  —  they  had  been  sold  in  market  overt 
and  were  legally  his.1  (O,  younker.as  I  was,  I  knew  so  much; 
anything  touching  a  horse  stayed  in  a  noddle  where  little  else 
found  lodgment!) 

I  did  no  more  than  play  with  the  idea  that  these  were  the 
missing  cattle.  That  they  had  passed  under  the  hammer  at 
Norwich  a  week  since  forbade  their  having  been  stolen  from  a 
park  in  the  East  Riding  a  fortnight  ago.  No  horse  brought  up 
from  grass  could  have  made  the  journey.  And  yet  —  the 
thought  came  to  me  like  a  gleam  of  light  from  under  a  locked 
door  —  if  that  horse-boat  had  reached  the  North  Sea  on  the 
ebb  under  skilled  hands,  if  she  had  run  with  a  northerly  breeze 

1  Not  so,  by  a  long  way.  A  bit  of  bad  law  this,  as  I  have  since  learnt  to  my  cost. 
— G.  F. 

[38] 


CHAPTER  FOUR 


for  the  Wash  and  discharged  her  lading  —  say  at  Burnham 
Thorpe,  or  better  still,  near  Lynn  —  those  horses  might  have 
reached  Norwich  the  night  before  the  fair  and  a  week  ahead  of 
the  bills. 

I  set  myself  to  plan  the  roguery,  and  was  soon  convinced  that 
though  conceivable  it  was  mighty  unlikely.  It  needed  the  con- 
currence of  such  ticklish  customers  as  two  couple  (  at  least  ) 
of  Gypsy  farriers,  a  gang  of  skilful  and  daring  copers  not  less 
than  eight  strong,  and  a  crew  of  east-coast  smugglers,  Wash 
pilots,  who  could  thrid  those  unlighted,  unbuoyed  channels 
at  the  nick  of  the  tide  and  in  the  darkness  of  a  moonless  win- 
ter's night.  Above  all,  the  venture  called  for  the  head  of  a 
general. 

And  with  that  I  fell  to  imagining  the  bodily  seeming  of  such 
a  man. 

To  make  it  possible  to  gather  round  him  and  hold  in  sub- 
jection such  discordant  confederates  needed  age;  experience 
to  confer  authority;  presence  and  bodily  strength  beyond  the 
common  to  enforce  it.  Such  a  fellow  had  need  to  be  as  broad 
as  a  door  and  six-foot  four  in  his  stocking  feet,  active,  silent 
and  sudden  as  a  lurcher,  but  tenacious  as  the  bull-dog  himself. 
A  tried  mariner,  too,  was  required  and  —  O,  marvellous,  a 
skilled  jockey!  Inland  bred  and  able  to  pass  as  such,  and  yet 
a  seafarer !  A  combination  of  Dick  Turpin  and  Captain  Kidd. 
My  imagination  carrying  me  no  further,  I  yawned  and  nodded. 

One  more  incident,  a  trivial  one,  occurred  on  the  journey. 
It  was  at  the  last  changing-house  before  we  reached  York  — 
Tadcaster,  surely  —  that  I  watched  a  traveller's  gig,  seated 
for  two,  approach  and  pass  us  as  we  stood.  It  was  drawn  by  a 
blood  mare,  a  free-stepping  strawberry  roan.  The  driver's 
face  was  hidden  by  the  wide  brim  of  his  beaver:  he  seemed  a 
slight,  elderly  man,  decently  dressed  in  tradesman  fashion,  and, 
quite  unremarkable,  had  not  the  girl  at  his  side,  warmly  cloaked 

[39] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QJUALITT 

and  hooded,  turned  up  to  me  a  face  so  innocent  and  beautiful 
and  young  as  to  stir  my  pulses  for  the  moment.  What  was 
strange,  I  felt  certain  upon  the  instant  that  I  had  met  her  before. 
But  where? 


[40] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A 

PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

CHAPTER  FIVE 
OFFICERS  AND   GENTLEMEN 


UPON  reaching  York,  where  I  put  up  at  the  Black  Swan 
in  Coney  Street,  my  immediate  business  was  to  have 
reported  myself  to  my  commanding  officer;  a  duty 
I  foolishly  delayed  from  day  to  day  whilst  awaiting  the  coming 
of  my  sea-borne  mails,  until  my  colonel,  having  learned  of  my 
arrival  from  a  third  party,  sent  to  my  lodging  to  know  if  I  were 
indisposed. 

Upon  this  hint,  having  made  what  toilet  I  could,  I  waited 
upon  him  the  next  morning.  But  my  tardiness  had  touched 
his  spleen:  I  had  done  upon  compulsion  what  should  have  been 
prompted  by  zeal,  and  had  but  myself  to  thank  for  the  coolness 
of  my  reception. 

What  Sir  Bulstrode  had  expected  to  see  I  know  not,  but  his 
disappointment  was  evident.  I  was  at  that  time  a  tall,  ungainly 
youth  of  the  sort  that  furnishes  late,  as  we  say  of  a  hound,  and 
gave  small  promise  on  first  acquaintance  of  either  strength  or 
smartness. 

I  am  under  the  impression  that  I  walked  as  gamekeepers  walk, 
with  a  slouch,  and  stood  as  huntsmen  stand,  with  heels  apart. 
In  a  word,  I  must  have  cut  an  unmartial  figure,  and  fallen 
easily  into  unmilitary  postures  equally  distasteful  to  the  eye 
of  a  martinet ;  but  of  these  defects  I  was  naturally  unconscious. 

[41] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

On  my  part  I  was  pricking  with  curiosity  as  to  the  person 
of  my  commanding  officer,  with  whose  name  and  services  I 
had  been  familiar  since  boyhood.  I  knew  that  his  reputation  as 
a  cavalry  leader  stood  second  to  none.  When  a  younger  man  he 
had  ridden  behind  Tarleton  in  Virginia,  where  I  have  heard 
that  his  name  is  still  remembered  as  that  of  an  adventurous  and 
determined  opponent,  ever  wont  to  appear  in  the  least  expected 
quarter.  It  was  said  of  him  that  he  had  taught  Marion  and 
Sumter  their  business.  The  marches  which  he  was  reputed 
to  have  made  with  small  patrols  verged  upon  the  incredible. 
The  honours  of  the  Carolina  campaign  in  1780  were  his, 
especially  the  cavalry  work  after  Camden. 

Boylike,  I  had  constructed  for  myself  an  ideal  compacted 
of  every  personal  advantage,  adding  such  touches  from  time  to 
time  as  my  growing  information  suggested.  The  result  was  a 
prodigy  to  which  Alexander  or  Prince  Rupert  must  have  seemed 
ineffectual.  Where  the  ancients  would  have  come  short  no  mod- 
ern may  think  to  hold  a  candle;  I  have  seen  both  the  Duke  of 
Berg1  and  Prince  Blucher  lead  cavalry,  and  need  not  say  that  I 
was  more  than  satisfied  with  their  performances,  but  at  one-and- 
twenty,  with  a  head  full  of  my  own  nonsensical  imaginations,  I 
would  not  have  looked  twice  at  either. 

I  had  prefigured  my  future  leader  as  hawk-visaged  and 
silent,  his  saturnine  countenance  lit  by  the  restless  bright  eye 
of  the  huntsman  of  a  woodland  country.  I  had  pictured 
him  long  of  limb  and  light  of  flank,  grizzled  but  unbent;  a 
man  who  could  swing  himself  into  the  saddle  of  a  sixteen-two 
charger  with  one  easy  movement  and  put  him  straight  at  any- 
thing a  horse  should  be  asked  to  face,  whether  water,  timber 
or  quick. 

To  such  a  man  I  could  have  given  all  the  worship  of  which 
a  boy  is  capable,  and,  let  me  tell  you,  a  boy's  love  is  no  bad 

'Joachim  Murat,  soi-disant  King  of  Naples. — EDS.  , 


CHAPTER  FIFE 


thing  to  win  and  to  hold,  whether  one  be  brigadier  of  horse  or 
tallow-chandler. 

Well,  I  was  shown  into  a  long,  dark  room,  and  before  my  eyes 
were  used  to  the  obscurity  found  myself  facing  a  personage 
seated  at  a  large  table,  a  personage  who  glanced  up  and  received 
my  salute  sourly.  So  little  did  the  speaker  accord  with  my 
preconceptions,  that  I  believe  I  gaped  upon  him  like  a  ninny, 
doubting  if  I  had  been  rightly  directed. 

I  saw  an  elderly  man,  older,  as  I  judged,  than  my  father, 
of  a  corpulency  approaching  unwieldiness.  The  large  dark  face 
was  blotched  and  purplish,  there  were  pouches  beneath  the  eyes, 
the  cheeks  hung  loose  on  either  side  of  a  pendulous  veined  nose, 
which  shook  when  he  spoke.  The  face  was  broader  across  the 
jowl  than  at  the  cheek  bones,  diminishing  still  more  at  the 
temples  and  tapering  up  to  where  the  receding  forehead  lost  it- 
self under  the  wig. 

One  hand  was  in  his  fob,  its  fellow  lay  upon  some  papers; 
I  noticed  how  it  trembled  and  twitched,  and  observed  the  chalk- 
stones  beneath  the  skin  of  the  swollen  knuckles. 

His  eyes  daunted  me  before  he  spoke,  their  hardness  matched 
the  hardness  of  his  mouth.  This  was  Sir  Bulstrode  Ogle,  Lieu- 
tenant Colonel  of  the  Fifth  Dragoon  Guards. 

Judge  if  I  was  disillusioned. 

You  must  remember  that  if  I  had  picked  up  little  at  school 
or  since  leaving  it,  I  had  at  least  learned  something  of  the 
horse,  both  what  he  can  carry  and  what  he  cannot;  who  is  fit 
and  who  is  unfit  to  ride  him.  It  came  home  to  me  that  this 
gross  old  man,  this  indulged  coach-load  of  flesh,  whatever  he 
had  been  in  his  prime,  was  no  longer  a  horseman.  That  gouty 
foot  would  not  hold  the  stirrup,  those  crippled  hands  could 
never  check  or  wheel  a  strong  charger.  The  idea  of  such  a 
figure  as  this  leading  an  advance  across  a  cramped  country  was 
ludicrous. 

[43] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QJUAUTY 

If  I  misliked  him,  he  as  plainly  distasted  me,  and  fell  across 
me  with  his  first  word,  rating  me  for  travelling  stage.  "Young 
man,"  said  he,  "did  no  one  tell  ye  that  a  carabineer  posts  when 
he  cannot  ride?  If  ye  can't  earn  your  salt,  sir,  don't  disgrace 
your  mess." 

As  my  absence  was  of  old  standing  and  unremarked  for  years, 
I  could  not  divine  why  it  should  be  found  so  offensive  at  this 
particular  juncture,  until  some  word  he  let  drop  supplied  me 
with  the  clue,  and  enabled  me  to  piece  out  the  great  man's 
grievance  from  the  fragments  of  soliloquy  with  which  he  inter- 
larded his  censure. 

It  appeared  that  apprehensions  of  rebellion  among  the 
Presbyterians  of  Ulster  had  led  to  the  Fifth  (  which  was  next 
upon  the  roster  for  foreign  service  )  being  brought  up  to  its 
full  strength  whilst  under-officered. 

This  had  been  no  easy  matter,  for  the  bounty  was  low  and 
the  service  excessively  unpopular,  the  disgraces  sustained  at 
the  hands  of  the  revolted  Colonists  being  still  fresh  in  men's 
minds. 

Hence,  for  want  of  better,  our  squadrons  were  stuffed  with 
Hessians,  Irish  papists,  jail-birds,  and  the  worst  characters  of 
Other  regiments,  yes,  and  the  rawest  clodhoppers  from  the 
militia,  who  were  daily  bumped  around  the  riding-school  or 
exercised  upon  Knavesmire. 

"And  just  when  I  am  at  my  wits'  end  for  serviceable  officers 
—  for  my  senior  Major  —  confound  him!  has  seen  fit  to  ask 
leave  upon  some  blanked  pretext,  a  wedding,  or  a  funeral,  or 
the  Lord  knows  what  —  just  when  I  am  damnably  short- 
handed  and  in  need  of  men  —  men,  I  repeat,  not  hobbledehoys, 
sir!  —  You  do  me  the  honour  to  report  yourself;  you,  who, 
they  tell  me,  are  as  ignorant  of  your  drill  and  duties  as  an 
applewoman,  and  have  yet  to  learn  upon  which  side  to  mount 
your  charger !" 

[44] 


CHAPTER  FIVE 


I  was  young  enough  to  assure  him  that  I  was  considered  a 
fair  horseman,  but  correction  seldom  mollifies  an  irritated 
superior,  and  I  joined  under  the  cloud  of  his  unconcealed 
displeasure. 

To  have  put  myself  upon  my  colonel's  black  book  was  mis- 
fortune enough  had  it  come  singly,  but  it  had  not,  for,  I  was  to 
learn  later,  I  had  an  ill-wisher  among  my  fellow  subalterns, 
who  had  conceived  a  dislike  for  me  before  so  much  as  seeing 
my  face.  And  for  the  following  reason.  This  gentleman,  Lieu- 
tenant Ganthony  by  name,  as  my  senior  in  the  service,  had 
had  the  first  refusal  of  the  troop  which  I  now  commanded, 
but  had  squandered  in  a  night  at  loo,  the  regulation  purchase- 
money  sent  him  by  a  doting  mother,  who  had  done  more  wisely 
to  have  transacted  the  business  through  an  agent.  Upon  this 
my  father  had  secured  the  step  for  me  as  next  for  seconding, 
and  Mr.  Ganthony,  having  thus  conceded  to  a  youngster  both 
rank  and  seniority  which  had  once  been  at  his  fingers'  ends, 
was  at  little  pains  to  conceal  his  jealousy  of  his  supplanter. 

Of  all  this  I  was  at  the  time  as  ignorant  as  a  babe,  nor  could 
imagine  in  what  manner  I  had  offended  this  man,  who  seemed 
at  all  times,  and  especially  when  inflamed  with  liquor,  disposed 
to  put  some  affront  upon  me.  It  came  to  a  head  within  the 
week.  He  swung  into  my  room  unannounced  whilst  I  was 
dressing  after  my  second  riding-school,  and  taking  possession 
of  my  bed,  sate  very  much  at  his  ease  quizzing  my  belongings 
and  rolling  an  unlighted  cigar  between  his  lips,  his  legs  at  full 
stretch  occupying  the  half  of  my  floor-space. 

"And  so,"  said  he,  without  salutation  of  preface,  "you  are 
brother  to  my  old  friend  Bramford?" 

I  nodded,  not  too  cordially.  "Haw,  the  devil  ye  are!"  said 
my  visitor,  and  spat  upon  the  floor  and,  carelessly  begging  my 
pardon,  resumed,  "I  take  it  ye  know  that  your  brother  owes 
me  money?"  He  eyed  me  askance,  between  two  minds,  as  I 

[45] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITT 

thought,  whether  to  bully  or  to  cajole.  I,  having  my  chin  up 
before  my  glass,  was  getting  my  stock  to  sit  to  my  liking  and 
was  thus  excused  from  immediate  reply  had  the  remark  been 
a  question  in  form.  These  news  might  very  well  be  true,  but 
my  brother's  affairs  were  nothing  to  me. 

"I  am  waiting  to  hear  what  ye  have  to  propose,  Mr.  Fan- 
shawe:  I  presume  ye  will  take  up  your  brother's  paper?" 

I  laughed  shortly  and  angrily.  "What?  a  second  son  pay  his 
elder  brother's  debts?  —  and  at  a  moment's  notice?  —  who- 
ever heard  the  like?" 

'  'Tis  the  rule  of  the  regiment,  sir,"  said  he,  "and  let  me 
tell  you  at  once  that  unless  ye  settle  you  will  not  do  for  the 
carabineers." 

This  bluster  tasted  flat  as  stale  beer;  he  neither  repeated  his 
demand  nor  arose  to  go,  but  fell  a-musing.  '  'Twas  a  wager 
upon  that  match  between  your  brother's  'Rhodomontade'  and 
Mr.  Vyze's  'Roysterer',"  said  he.  'Rhodomontade'  broke  a 
blood-vessel.  Bramford  took  the  brute  over  from  the  beau 
when  they  dispersed  their  joint  stable.  Ye  know  Vyze?" 

I  had  heard  the  name  of  my  brother's  racing  partner,  but 
no  more,  and  confessed  to  no  interest  in  the  matter.  I  yawned, 
but  my  caller  stuck. 

"Bramford  is  most  damnably  dipped,  as  all  the  town 
knows,"  said  he;  "the  only  question  is  whether  this  woman 
will  pull  him  round.  He  is  for  marrying,  ye  understand." 

I  pricked  my  ears.    He  maundered  on. 

"What's  her  property?  Is  it  tied  up?  She's  the  Marquise  de 
la  Something-or-other,  they  say.  'Lew-ceel,  mong  onge!'  is  all 
the  little  fool's  cry  when  he's  squiffy;"  he  drew  a  ridiculous 
grimace  and  mimicked  my  brother's  tone  to  the  life. 

I  had  heard  enough.  If  Bramford  had  played  the  fool  he 
might  stand  the  racket,  but  the  lady  was  another  matter.  Not 
one  syllable  affecting  her  should  pass  my  lips,  nor  the  lips  of 

[46] 


CHAPTER  FIFE 


this  fellow  if  I  were  man  enough  to  prevent  him.  I  had  been 
warming  up  for  a  minute  past  and  suddenly  grew  hot.  I  pointed 
to  the  corridor. 

"W-what?"  he  stammered,  realizing  the  situation.  "D'ye 
show  me  the  door?" 

"Would  ye  chuse  the  window,  Mr.  Ganthony?"  I  riposted 
just  above  a  whisper,  tingling  and  above  myself,  for  the  man 
was  tall  and  big  and  years  my  senior.  But  there  was  no  fight 
in  the  fellow  that  day :  my  little  room  was  soon  rid  of  him ;  yet 
I  had  provided  myself  with  an  enemy  whose  malice  was  to  cost 
me  my  commission,  and  to  put  me  in  danger  of  my  life  —  yes, 
and  to  dog  my  path  for  many  a  year  after  he  was  laid  in  a 
felon's  grave. 

As  will  presently  appear,  my  term  of  service  with  the  colours 
was  too  short  to  entitle  me  to  form  an  opinion,  yet,  immature 
as  I  was,  I  thought  at  the  time  that  my  regiment  was  in  as  ill 
a  posture  for  active  service  as  His  Majesty's  enemies  could  have 
desired:  an  opinion  only  too  soon  to  be  justified. 

If  the  mess  numbered  any  zealous  or  competent  officers,  I 
was  unfortunate  in  failing  to  make  their  acquaintance. 

The  handling  of  the  new  drafts  was  left  to  the  sergeants, 
truculent  and  vicious  fellows,  whose  treatment  of  the  unfor- 
tunate privates  was  a  misery  to  witness. 

Discipline  was  terribly  severe,  having  been  recently  tightened 
under  the  expectation  of  active  service.  Nor  were  the  troopers 
singular  in  their  experiences;  the  subalterns  had  their  share  of 
injustice,  and  even  ill-usage,  to  support. 

I  was  by  nature  light-hearted  and  of  a  careless  and  sanguine 
temperament;  a  cadet  of  a  soldiering  family,  I  had  looked 
forward  to  wearing  my  sovereign's  uniform  since  the  day  I 
was  breeched,  and  was  not  in  the  least  disposed  to  quarrel  with 
honourable  comrades  or  reasonable  conditions  of  service.  That 
I  signally  failed  to  conform  to  the  conditions,  or  to  ingratiate 

[47] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITr 

myself  with  my  mess,  and  presently  involved  myself  in  a 
scandalous  fracas  which  to  some  extent  has  overshadowed  my 
life,  was  not,  I  solemnly  aver,  owing  to  faults  of  mine.  I  am 
now  an  old  man,  duly  sensible  of  my  failings  and  thankful  for 
many  mercies,  and  I  have  set  myself  to  review,  pen  in  hand, 
the  events  of  my  early  life,  for  the  instruction,  as  I  trust,  of 
my  young  relatives;  but,  ponder  it  as  I  will,  I  can  hardly  blame 
myself  for  the  thing  that  occurred. 

To  begin  with,  the  British  army  which  has  since  wreathed 
its  standards  with  laurels  and  can  well  afford  to  admit  the  truth, 
was  at  this  juncture  as  pitifully  ill-found  and  as  notoriously 
ill-led  as  at  any  period  in  its  history. 

We  had  been  beaten  in  our  last  war,  but  had  learned  nothing 
by  our  reverses.  Jobbery  and  petticoat  influence  were  rather 
the  rule  of  the  service  than  the  exception,  and  jobbery  and 
petticoat  influence,  whilst  promoting  the  worst,  had  sapped  the 
zeal  and  soured  the  spirits  of  the  best. 

A  minister  paid  his  tailor's  bill  with  a  commission.  Years 
of  active  service  and  a  dozen  wounds  in  front  went  for  nothing 
if  one's  rival  stood  well  in  the  graces  of  the  mistress  of  a  royal 
duke. 

The  gentlemen  who  bore  His  Majesty's  commissions  had 
bought  their  commands,  and  naturally  looked  to  see  value  for 
their  money,  regarding  the  army  as  existing  for  their  benefit  and 
not  themselves  for  the  benefit  of  the  army. 

In  short,  a  captain  getting  his  company  got  a  flock  to  shear, 
and  too  often  shore  it  so  closely  as  to  ruin  its  efficiency.  Some 
regiments  were  notoriously  rotten. 

In  the  case  of  the  carabineers  matters  were  approaching  a 
pass  to  which  there  was  but  one  issue  —  disgraceful  disaster  — 
from  participating  in  which  I  was,  by  the  mercy  of  Divine 
Providence,  timely  removed. 

The  day  was  a  day  of  hard  drinking  and  high  play.  Certain 

[48] 


CHAPTER  FIFE 


messes  had  the  name  for  this  vice,  others  for  that;  the  one 
which  I  had  joined  was  noted  for  excess  in  both. 

A  youthful  subaltern,  pink  and  smiling  from  his  mother's 
parting  embrace,  with  his  father's  guineas  jingling  in  his  fob, 
was  the  natural  prey  of  the  regimental  hawks. 

I  was  the  pigeon,  and  had  without  doubt  been  denuded  of 
every  feather,  had  not  a  certain  shrewdness  acquired  in  the 
hunting-field,  at  the  horse-fair  and  at  market,  a  rustical 
shrewdness,  no  doubt,  but  better  than  none,  stood  me  in  good 
stead. 

The  latest  addition  to  the  mess  was  not  such  a  fool  as  he 
looked.  One  was  for  selling  me  a  charger  and  took  very  ill 
my  detection  of  a  side-bone.  Another  would  teach  me  pool,  and 
found  at  the  expense  of  certain  half-crown  lives  (  which  he 
never  paid  )  that  I  was  not  so  unskilled  as  he  had  hoped.  We 
had  a  table  at  home. 

But  I  was  in  their  hands,  whether  jolted  in  school  upon  the 
trickiest  horse  in  the  regiment,  or  working  through  the  long 
toast-list  under  the  vigilant  eyes  of  seasoned  men  interested  in 
breaking  down  my  sobriety  under  guise  of  "making  my  head." 

The  rule  of  our  mess  was  imperative.  The  servants  were 
under  penalties  to  fill  to  the  brim,  and  the  gentleman  was  fined 
a  bottle  who  failed  to  take  down  his  quantum  to  the  last  drop 
and  reverse  his  glass  whilst  awaiting  the  return  of  the  decanter. 

With  the  cards,  with  the  cues,  and  with  the  dice  they  am- 
bushed my  quarter's  allowance,  and  not  wholly  in  vain,  and 
by  these  and  similar  practice  would  have  brought  me  to 
pecuniary  embarrassment  had  time  permitted. 

That  my  health  and  habit  of  body  would  have  suffered  had 
I  continued  a  member  of  this  mess  is  most  probable;  thus,  both 
character,  person  and  pocket  benefited  by  what  seemed  at 
that  time  the  unmitigated  calamity  which  now  overtook  me. 

One  of  our  customs,  to  which  I  have  not  alluded,  was  the 

[49] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

perpetration  of  the  most  outrageous  practical  jokes.  Some- 
times brutal,  often  offensive  to  good  taste,  always  disagreeable 
to  the  victim,  who  was  usually  a  subaltern  too  young  to  resent 
effectually  the  pranks  of  his  seniors,  these  practices  had 
already  given  our  mess  a  bad  name  and  had  led  to  hostile 
meetings. 

The  burlesque  courts-martial,  duckings  in  the  horse-trough, 
hay-makings  in  the  rooms  of  shy  young  cornets,  inspired  me 
with  the  silent  resolution  to  defend  myself  if  attacked  by  all 
legitimate  means.  I  was  conscious  of  a  long  reach  and  heavy 
left  hand,  and  if  matters  went  ill,  why,  there  was  my  father's 
gift.  I  had  been  too  long  my  own  master  to  subject  myself 
again  to  wanton  indignities  which,  as  a  lower  boy  at  Eton,  I 
had  accepted  as  the  course  of  nature. 

That  I  should  remain  many  days  exempt  from  the  high 
spirits  of  certain  members  of  my  mess  seemed  unlikely.  That 
any  warning  of  impending  evil  should  reach  me  was  improbable, 
for  to  spoil  sport  was  a  thing  unpardonable  by  the  regimental 
code. 

Not  one  of  my  fellows  in  misfortune  lifted  an  eyelid,  and  I 
owed  my  safety  to  my  servant,  a  poor,  honest  fellow,  whose 
goodness  of  heart  had  survived  the  discouragements  of  a 
trooper's  life. 

A  Stowmarket  man,  Hymus  by  name,  he  warmed  towards  a 
young  scapegrace  of  a  master,  upon  whose  tongue  still  hung 
something  of  our  Suffolk  drawl. 

Despite  my  resolution,  I  own  that  I  fell  into  something  like 
a  panic  when  my  batman  gave  me  the  office. 

"That  do  sim  to  me,  sir,"  he  began  in  a  nervous  whisper, 
"that  onless  yew  be  uncommon  fly,  sir,  yew'll  be  carried  to 
bed  drunk  to-night,  sir." 

I  was  prepared  for  worse  news,  and  said  so;  but  there  was 
more  behind. 

[50] 


CHAPTER  FIFE 


"I  see  six  heel-ropes  a-smuggled  intew  Mr.  Wallop's  quarters 
this  arternoon,"  he  said,  nodding  mysteriously.  "'Tis  him  and 
Mr.  Ganthony  is  on  the  job,  them  and  a  brace  o'  mess  waiters. 
I  wormed  it  out  o'  one  on  'em  by  stan'nin'  him  his  drink; 
thankye,  sir;  Gawd  on'y  knows  what  urn's  up  tew!" 

"But  I  shall  mind  what  I  take  and  lock  and  bolt  myself  in." 

For  all  reply  he  held  the  candle  to  the  door  (  I  was  dressing 
for  mess,  and  he  had  just  tied  my  queue  )  and  made  me  see  the 
bread  stoppings  to  holes  whence  the  screws  which  had  held 
the  furniture  to  the  wood  had  been  removed.  Then,  after  re- 
connoitring the  passage  and  finding  it  clear,  he  signed  me  to 
follow,  and  silently  showed  me  certain  auger-drills  in  the  door 
and  jamb.  I  was  to  be  screwed  in. 

With  much  precaution  he  lighted  me  back  into  my  room, 
and  closed  the  door.  "Wooden  pegs  won't  stand  a  kick,  sir.  I 
smoked  'em  just  afore  ye  come  up.  Most  unfortnitly  there  ain't 
no  time  to  rectify  our  defences,  sir." 

"You  must  get  into  the  city  and  back,"  I  began,  but  he 
wagged  his  head. 

"Beg  y'  pardon,  captain,  but  'twas  belts  again  last  night  in 
Walmgate  atween  our  Irish  and  the  militia.  A  couple  o'  them 
East  Ridings  was  laid  out.  Ye'll  find,  if  ye  arst,  as  all  leave  be 
stopped  until  the  militia  be  disbanded,  or  till  we  gets  the  route, 
sir." 

He  was  right.  Fresh  screws  were  not  to  be  come  by  that  night, 
nor  was  there  anything  in  the  room  solid  enough  to  reinforce 
the  door  if  heavily  attacked. 

"For  Gawd's  sake,  don't  ye  go  for  to  bring  me  inter  this 
here,  sir!"  entreated  my  only  friend,  when  having  done  his 
part  he  found  my  eye  turn  helplessly  to  his.  I  knew  that  he  had 
reason  for  his  plea  and  promised. 

There  was  only  myself  to  depend  upon.  The  spirit  and 
resource  of  a  home-bred  youth  to  pit  against  the  experienced 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

malice  of  adepts.  It  was  no  wonder  if  I  failed,  if  indeed  my 
failure  were  not  rather  (  under  God's  providence  )  in  the 
nature  of  success. 

By  simulating  sickness  I  escaped  from  mess  early  with  a  clear 
head,  and  waited  what  should  befall  ambushed  in  the  quarters 
of  an  officer  who  lodged  upon  the  same  landing. 

Soon  after  midnight  I  heard  the  enemy  approach,  stumbling 
up  the  stair  in  different  stages  of  drink,  Captain  Wallop  quarrel- 
some, his  satellite  Ganthony  hilarious,  and  checking  with  dif- 
ficulty a  disposition  to  sing.  A  girl  was  with  them. 

Expecting  no  resistance  they  made  for  my  quarters.  I  heard 
them  force  the  door;  the  outcry  of  surprise  which  greeted  the 
empty  bed :  the  sounds  of  falling  crockery  and  furniture. 

In  one  instant  I  was  upon  them,  demanding  what  they  did  in 
my  rooms. 

My  manifest  sobriety  checked  them,  but  only  for  a  moment. 

"Whoo  —  oop!"  yelled  Ganthony  shutting  an  eye  and  putting 
a  finger  in  his  ear. 

"Ropes!"  cried  the  Captain,  and  I  had  a  glimpse  of  a  couple 
of  troopers  hurrying  up  with  something  in  hand. 

Wallop,  who  held  the  light,  flashed  it  in  my  eyes,  and  setting 
it  down,  flicked  me  across  the  mouth  with  the  back  of  his  open 
hand,  and  stood  ready,  poised  and  swaying  to  get  in  his  blow  if 
I  moved.  He  was  reported  a  great  boxer :  a  tall,  high-coloured 
man,  his  cheeks  flushed  and  his  eyes  glazed  with  wine  shone  in 
the  candle-light. 

To  speak  truth  I  was  now  prodigiously  frightened,  my  in- 
dignation having  carried  me  into  a  situation  from  which  I  saw  no 
chance  of  honourable  issue.  The  room  was  small,  and  encumber- 
ed with  overset  chairs,  and  I  beset  on  all  sides  by  men  in  no  con- 
dition to  hear  reason,  whom  I  could  neither  escape  nor  resist. 

At  this  juncture  help  came  from  an  un-looked  for  quarter. 
The  girl,  the  soberest  of  the  party,  mistrusting  her  chances  of 

[52] 


CHAPTER  FIFE 


safety  in  a  general  mellay  in  such  a  cock-pit,  suddenly  clung  to 
Wallop's  arm.  "Ye  fool,"  cried  she,  "doan't  ye  see  it  winna 
work?" 

Her  master  shook  her  off  roughly  and  boxed  her  ear,  and 
upon  the  instant  I  delivered  the  heaviest  left-handed  upper- 
cut  I  could  manage.  He  must  have  been  just  within  distance 
for  he  took  the  wall  with  the  back  of  his  head  and  rebounded  at 
the  moment  when  his  confederate,  exchanging  the  fatuous 
humour  for  the  frantic,  flung  himself  upon  me  from  behind, 
hiccoughing  a  curse.  Spinning  upon  my  heel,  I  dealt  him  a 
right  half-arm  hook  under  the  angle  of  the  jaw,  and  slipt  from 
between  them.  They  encountered  and  fell  locked.  The  girl, 
grinning  broad  approval,  blew  out  the  light,  and  the  mess- 
waiters  rushing  in,  fell  over  the  legs  of  the  fallen  into  blows, 
pitch-darkness,  broken  crockery  and  vile  language. 

The  lass  let  a  shriek,  and  catched  me  around  the  neck. 
"Run,  laad!"  she  whispered;  "Tha's  a  reet  good  'un,  but  tha' 
canna  fet  all  fower!" 

She  ended  with  a  hearty  buss,  and  pushed  me  towards  the 
door.  We  heard,  as  we  felt  our  way  along  the  corridor,  the 
thud  and  rattle  of  heavy  blows,  both  officers  bawling  to  their 
men  to  tie  me.  Thus  ended,  as  far  as  I  was  concerned,  a  scuffle 
which  from  first  to  last  had  passed  in  a  matter  of  six  seconds. 

The  wqrnan  and  I  parted  company  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs 
upon  the  rain-wetted  stones  of  the  barrack  yard. 

The  picket  sentry,  coughing  in  his  box,  heard  and  saw 
nothing,  but  I  guessed  from  the  movements  of  a  lanthorn  that 
the  main-guard  was  being  turned  out,  and,  having  no  desire  to 
lodge  a  complaint  of  an  affair  I  fancied  I  had  come  well  out  of, 
made  for  the  empty  mess-house  and  passed  the  night  coldly 
upon  a  settee,  shaken  at  intervals  with  convulsions  of  mirth, 
and  indulging  the  most  humorous  speculations  as  to  what  had 
befallen  my  visitors  after  the  departure  of  their  host. 

[53] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

From  this  retreat  I  reconnoitred  my  way  to  my  quarters  in 
the  gloom  of  early  morning.  The  door  creaked  and  gave  to  my 
shoulder.  The  screwing-up  attempted  hastily  and  in  darkness 
by  half-intoxicated  men  was  a  failure. 

Picking  my  way  among  disarranged  furniture,  I  found  candle 
and  tinder-box  where  I  had  hidden  them.  At  the  first  gleam  of 
light,  a  groan  and  some  movements  in  the  room  startled  me. 
Upon  my  bed  lay  Ganthony  trussed  and  corded  like  a  capon, 
gagged  with  a  twisted  towel  that  had  not  missed  much  of  mak- 
ing an  end  of  him. 

This  totally  unexpected  apparition  startled  me  out  of  my 
propriety,  and  by  a  natural  revulsion  I  was  seized  by  such  a 
paroxysm  of  laughter  as  has  possessed  me  but  twice  or  thrice  in 
my  life.  The  inference  to  be  drawn  from  this  absurd  spectacle 
was  plain.  The  heavier  man  had  temporarily  stunned  the 
weaker  in  the  rally  in  which  I  had  left  them;  and,  convinced 
that  this  confederate  had  slunk  off,  but  that  he  had  me  under 
his  hand,  Wallop  had  superintended  the  roping  and  gagging 
as  well  as  total  darkness,  a  broken  head  and  a  skinful  of 
liquor  had  permitted. 

Humanity  prompted  me  to  cast  loose  the  bruised  and  be- 
numbed figure  upon  the  bed,  but  the  reaction  due  to  a  sleepless 
night,  the  struggle  and  the  anxieties  attendant,  added  to  the 
shock  of  this  discovery,  so  overset  me,  that  leaning  against 
the  wall,  candle  in  hand,  I  wept  and  crowed  in  helpless 
merriment,  and  in  this  condition  was  found  by  Hymus  coming 
in  with  my  razors  and  shaving-dish. 

I  can  still  see  him,  a  picture  of  bewilderment  framed  by 
the  darkness  of  the  doorway,  both  hands  occupied,  swaying 
irresolute,  unwilling  either  to  enter  or  to  retire,  solicitude  for 
his  master  and  fears  for  himself  pulling  him  in  opposite  direc- 
tions, as  solutions  of  what  he  beheld  and  its  possible  conse- 
quences occurred  to  him. 

[541 


CHAPTER  FIVE 


"Good-morning  to  you,  Mr.  Ganthony!"  laughed  I,  getting 
some  command  of  myself  at  length.  "I  trust,  sir,  you  have 
slept  well,  although  you  have  mistaken  my  bed  for  your  own. 
What!  not  a  word  of  thanks  or  explanation,  sir!  But,  oh,  I 
perceive  your  mouth  is  full.  You  supped  monstrous  well,  Mr. 
Ganthony.  I  can  but  congratulate  myself  upon  missing  such 
embarrassing  hospitality." 

These  jeers,  however  well  merited,  were  in  mighty  poor 
taste,  and  were  occasioning  the  acutest  confusion  to  Hymus. 
Merely  to  have  witnessed,  however  inadvertently,  the  ignomin- 
ious disgrace  of  a  superior,  might  —  according  to  the  dis- 
position of  the  person  concerned  —  be  worth  a  couple  of 
guineas  hush-money  and  promotion  to  lance,  or  bring  down 
upon  him  a  spite  which  would  embitter  the  remainder  of  his 
service. 

He  beckoned  me  to  follow  him  to  the  stair-head. 

"Beggin'  your  pardon,  captain,  but  this  hare's  no  larfin' 
matter.  'Tis  longways  past  a  joke,  sir.  Cap'n  Wallop's  werry 
bad,  sir;  ye  hit  him  a  devilish  crack,  sir;  on  the  back  o'  the 
head,  too.  An'  the  guard  was  turned  out  and  madam  nabbed 
(  'twas  her  squealin'  as  blew  the  gaff ).  How  they  failed  o' 
findin'  Mr.  Ganthony  beats  me;  but  lights  was  out. 

"Well,  sir,  if  yew'll  be  advised  by  me,  yew'll  cast  the  gen'lman 
loose,  brew  'urn  somethink  hot,  and  sorter  fare  to  make  it  up 
wi'  him.  Yew'll  want  all  the  friends  yew've  got  arter  this  hare 
job.  If  yew  can  just  make  shift  to  shave  yarself  for  this  once 
I'll  set  to  and  rub  the  gen'lman  down  for  parade." 

I  was  too  young  and  puffed-up  to  take  this  honest  fellow's 
advice  in  its  entirety  or  to  let  it  alone. 

To  treat  the  affair  as  a  jest  and  win  the  unlucky  perpetra- 
tor's goodwill  by  frankly  ignoring  the  unpardonable  was  a 
course  with  much  to  recommend  it.  To  call  in  the  officer  of  the 
day  and  request  him  to  make  a  minute  of  the  facts  would  have 

[551 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

secured  me,  but  had  less  to  be  said  for  it.  To  turn  the  humili- 
ated wretch  into  the  corridor  and  leave  him  unconciliated  and 
unobliged  under  the  necessity  of  concocting  such  a  story  as 
would  palliate  his  disgrace  and  undo  me,  was  an  unredeemed 
folly.  This  folly  I  perpetrated. 

I  was  in  higher  spirits  and  better  conceit  with  myself  than 
I  had  been  since  joining,  and,  when  summoned  to  my  colonel's 
presence,  went  jauntily  like  the  young  nincompoop  that  I  was, 
without  misgiving  or  self-examination  as  to  what  account  I 
should  give  of  the  night's  work. 

As  it  turned  out  preparation  would  have  availed  me  nothing, 
nor  the  silver  tongue  of  Mr.  Burke  himself. 

The  great  man  was  indisposed  and  had  but  just  risen  (  one 
of  the  acting  majors  had  taken  parade  ) ,  and  was  in  a  pitiable, 
and  indeed,  disgraceful  condition.  To  put  the  case  in  two 
words,  my  commanding  officer  was  stale  drunk,  with  a  head 
and  a  temper  of  the  worst. 

His  brows  were  bound  with  a  napkin  smelling  of  vinegar. 
His  eyes,  yellow  and  blood-shot,  seemed  apprehensive  of  some- 
thing evil,  whilst  his  hands,  restlessly  in  motion,  were  constantly 
plucking  morsels  of  thread  or  hair  from  his  clothing  and  cast- 
ing them  from  him  with  gestures  of  disgust. 

My  entrance  was  a  diversion,  but  it  seemed  an  unwelcome 
diversion.  He  eyed  me  with  the  stupid  spite  of  a  tethered  bull, 
and,  hitching  himself  higher  in  his  chair,  broke  upon  me  with 
random  charges  and  execrations  before  I  had  come  to  a  halt  or 
completed  my  salute. 

That  I  had  shirked  my  toasts  at  mess  by  feigning  myself 
overcome,  was  the  first  count,  stigmatized  as  a  black  and  dam- 
nable insult  to  himself.  It  appeared  I  had  further  abused  my 
sobriety  to  decoy  to  my  quarters  and  strap  to  my  bedstead  a 
junior  officer  who  was  in  a  natural  and  gentlemanlike  condition 
of  liquor.  To  cap  it  all,  I  had  brutally  and  cowardly  assaulted 

[56] 


CHAPTER  FIVE 


from  behind  my  senior  captain  who  had  remonstrated  with  me 
upon   my   barbarity. 

Such  was  the  version  of  the  affair,  or  rather  the  grotesque 
perversion  of  it,  which  had  fixed  itself  in  my  chief's  head,  and 
'twas  in  vain  I  laboured  to  substitute  the  truth. 

Of  the  nefarious  plot,  or  wanton  jest,  of  which  I  had  like 
to  have  been  the  victim,  or  of  as  much  of  it  as  I  could  get  him 
to  listen  to  (he  being  extraordinary  deaf  when  drunk),  —  the 
tyrant  was  boisterously  incredulous,  chusing  to  regard  a  charge 
of  improper  behaviour  in  his  officers  as  a  personal  aspersion 
upon  himself. 

"A  woman  in  quarters,  sir!  A  woman  not  on  the  strength  ? 
Don't  tell  me,  sir!  Impossible!  I  deny  it!  I  repudiate  it!  I'd 
not  believe  ye  on  your  gospel  oath,  sir!  nor  twenty  more  of 
your  kidney.  How  got  she  past  the  guard,  sir  ?  Answer  me!  And 
if  she  was  in  last  night,  sir,  she  is  in  now.  Where  is  she,  I  say! 
Produce  her!" 

That  madam  had  been  let  slip  by  an  officer  in  the  secret, 
and  had  smuggled  herself  out  of  barracks  in  the  same  disguise 
in  which  she  had  been  smuggled  in,  to  wit,  as  a  smock-frocked 
carter's  boy  upon  the  top  of  a  load  of  forage,  this  I  was  to 
learn  later.  All  I  could  do  was  to  stick  to  my  tale  with  an  artless 
pertinacity,  which  was  in  itself  a  fresh  offence. 

Interrupted,  contradicted,  brow-beaten,  I  presently  lost 
my  head,  and  persisted,  not  without  heat  that  I  could  prove  my 
statement. 

"Silence,  sir!  Do  ye  bawl  at  me,  sir?  D'ye  think  to  talk 
me  down?  He  says  he  didn't  —  he  contradicts  his  colonel; 
strike  me  blind  'tis  mutiny!  What?  I  can't  hear  —  Why  the 
devil  d'ye  mumble  so  ?  Ho!  Ye  have  witnesses  ?  Name  'em,  sir  ; 
name  'em!"  bellowed  Sir  Bulstrode,  shifting  his  gouty  foot  upon 
the  T  stool  with  extravagant  grimaces. 

"My  servant — "  I  began  and  stopped. 

[57] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

"Your  orderly!  And  ye  would  pit  the  word  of  a  private 
soldier,  a  thieving  gallows-due  papist  is  it  ?  or  a  swinish  Hes- 
sian —  ( such  is  the  quality  of  His  Majesty's  forces  in  these 
times!  )  —  ye  would  set  the  word  of  a  trooper,  I  say,  against 
the  parole  of  an  officer  and  a  gentleman.  Hay  ?  Ye  do  ? " 

I  was  silent.  "Ye  do  not?" 

I  was  speechless,  remembering  too  late  my  promise. 

"  Answer  me,  will  ye  ?  Yes  or  no,  sir,  without  equivocation! 
.  .  .  You  are  dumb,  sir,  obstinately,  contumaciously  mute! 
You,  the  last  comer  to  my  mess,  presume  to  traduce  your 
brother  officers  with  a  farrago  of  ridiculous  tarradiddles,  abuse 
your  juniors  and  insult  your  Colonel!" 

Between  gout,  drink,  and  the  spirit  of  contradiction,  the 
man  had  wrought  himself  into  a  terrifying  rage. 

Oversetting  the  stool  and  heaving  himself  to  his  feet  by 
the  arms  of  his  chair,  he  came  stumbling  upon  me  round  the 
table  swearing  at  large 

I  thought  he  was  about  to  strike  me,  and  instinctively 
adopted  some  posture  of  defence,  possibly  uttered  some  sound. 
We  were  alone. 

I  was  but  a  big  boy,  you  must  remember,  with  scarce  a  tinc- 
ture of  that  essential  military  discipline  which  will  hold  alike 
the  brave  soldier  and  the  weakling  silent  and  stock-still  under 
the  unjustest  censures,  as  it  will  hold  them  under  fire.  What 
I  said  I  know  not,  but,  upon  my  eternal  salvation  I  declare  that 
the  words  I  was  charged  with  and  for  which  I  was  (virtually) 
broken,  never  so  much  as  entered  my  mind. 

In  two  minutes  I  was  out  of  the  orderly-room  again,  under 
close  arrest,  which  next  morning  was  commuted  to  permission 
to  send  in  my  papers. 

An  older  man  would  have  seen  in  this  relaxation  evidence  of 
weakness  in  the  case  against  me  and  a  desire  to  be  rid  of  me 
quietly.  I,  kicking  my  heels  in  my  quarters  in  the  cold  fit  of 

[58] 


CHAPTER  FIVE 


despair,  saw  nothing  but  a  clean  and  quick  way  out  of  evil  com- 
pany and  snapped  at  the  bait. 

I  signed  where  I  was  bid,  and  an  hour  later  was  aware  of  my 
mistake. 

"There  now.  And  ye  didn't  so  much  as  demand  a  court- 
martial,  sir  ?  But,  beggin'  yar  pardon,  was  that  there  soo  wise  ? " 

This  was  from  Hymus,  sorting  my  wash  and  muttering  his 
honest  regrets  at  losing  a  master  who  had  not  yet  learnt  to 
abuse  his  authority. 

"And  I  dew  hope,  sir,  ye  didn't  bring  a  poor  fellow's  name 
intew  \  ? " 

I  jumped.  "By  Jupiter!"  I  cried  and  stopped,  voice  and 
gesture  completing  my  admission. 

The  man's  hands  fell,  he  waited  with  haggard  eyes. 

"Not  your  name,  Hymus,  certainly;  but  I  fear  I  may  have 
said  —  indeed,  I  did  say — " 

"As  yer  honour's  orderly  could  speak  if  he  was  arst  ?" 

"That  is  about  it.  I  am  monstrous  sorry.  It  was  most  thought- 
less of  me;  but  you  have  no  idea  how  I  was  badgered!  But, 
oh,  I  say,  it  can't  be  as  bad  as  all  that,  my  man!" 

For  he  collapsed  with  a  groan;  his  legs  no  longer  supported 
him;  he  sate  upon  the  floor  panting  and  pallid,  a  prey  to  woeful 
forecasts. 

"Oh,    captain!      Ye     shouldn't     have     done    me    the    ill 
turn!     They'll    have    me,    yes,    they'll     have   me,   mos'    like 
afore  this  week  is  out,  on   some   count  or  another. 
My  Gawd!     .     .     . 

"  Yar  honour's  noble  father'll  have  a  word  to  say  about  this 
that  even  the  Old  'un  (  yew  know  who! )  must  listen  tew.  And 
then  witnesses'll  be  wanted,  and,  meantime,  sir,  what  is  a 
trooper's  life  worth  as  could  tell  the  trew  gawsple  trewth  o' 
larst  night's  carryings-on  as  touchin'  tew  o'  his  orficers? 
Think,  sir!" 

(59l 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

He  snapped  rueful  fingers  to  express  the  value  of  a  life  under 
such  conditions,  and  again  his  hands  fell  to  his  sides. 

"May  the  Lord  have  mercy  'pon  poor  Hymus!"  he  said;  his 
mouth  loosened  and  worked;  his  eyes  filled  and  ran  over 
silently. 

I  had  begun  by  thinking  his  fears  extravagant,  but  not  even 
the  selfish  optimism  of  youth  was  proof  against  this  exhibition; 
and  indeed  I  had  seen  enough  in  my  fortnight's  service  to  give 
colour  and  form  to  his  hints. 

"But  you  shall  not  come  to  harm;  I  swear  it!"  I  exclaimed, 
turning  very  red.  "Look  here,  man,  what  will  it  cost  to  buy 
your  discharge  ? " 

"Twenty  pound,  captain;  they  raised  it  to  that  last  month;  not 
that  I  could  find  twenty  shillin'  if  'twas  to  save  my  mortal 
soul!  No!  No!  So  soon  as  ever  yar  honour's  back  is  turned, 
I'll  be  down  for  fatigue;  the  sergeants'll  be  tipt  the  office 
and  I'll  be  a  marked  man.  Something  will  be  missin'  within  the 
week  from  quarters  where  I've  bin  deliverin'  coal,  or  kindlin', 
or  the  wash,  and  the  somethin'  —  may  be  a  goolden  watch- 
case  or  a  marked  guinea  —  '11  be  found  in  my  kit,  or  bedding, 
and  then  it'll  be  the  ladder  in  the  riding-school  with  the  farriers 
and  their  cats,  and  what  is  left  o'  me  may  rot  in  horspit'l  awhile 
an'  then  —  good-bye  to  poor  Hymus!"  he  bowed  his  head  and 
sobbed. 

"Damme  I'll  cheat  'em!"  he  whispered  hoarsely,  "S'elp  me 
bob,  if  I  be  to  die  I'll  die  my  own  way.  Drowndin'  is  an  easy 
finish,  they  say;  there's  wells  about;  there's  the  Foss,  the  river 
is  handy.  And  I  a  ten  years  man  with  ne'er  a  mark  agin  my 
name!  But,  what  is  to  be  must  be,  seem'n'ly;  but  I  seem  to 
fare  to  wish  that  were  over ! " 

I  believe  I  flushed  immensely  and  felt  to  the  full  such  dis- 
comforts and  inward  reproaches  as  properly  attend  a  mean 
action. 


CHAPTER  FIVE 


I  had  conducted  this  unfortunate  creature  into  a  position 
of  the  unmost  danger;  to  leave  him  in  it  was  impossible:  he  had 
befriended  me  to  his  own  undoing. 

"My  man,"  said  I,  "here  are  five-and-twenty  pound  notes. 
Take  them;  procure  your  discharge  and  find  me  at  the  Black 
Swan  that  is  in  Coney  Street.  As  a  private  gentleman  I  shall 
need  a  servant,  and  I  dare  swear  I  shall  find  none  better  than 
yourself,"  and  with  that  I  tossed  the  money  into  his  lap  where 
he  sate,  and  made  haste  from  the  room  to  escape  the  enormity 
of  the  poor  wretch's  gratitude. 


[61] 


MEMOIRS   OF  A 

PERSON  OF  QUALITY 


CHAPTER  SIX 
A  FRIEND  AT  A  PINCH 


NEWS  of  my  having  sent  in  my  papers  made  the  round 
of  the  barracks  in  a  trice,  and  being  of  the  nature  of  a 
godsend  to  all  beneath  me  in  rank,  secured  me 
abundance  of  visitors  during  the  short  time  of  my  further 
residence  in  quarters. 

Under  cover  of  asking  my  leave  to  contradict  a  rumour 
so  injurious  to  my  character,  half  the  subalterns  called  upon 
me  in  turn,  and  each  upon  hearing  his  news  confirmed,  pro- 
posed in  the  most  handsome  manner  to  relieve  me  of  my 
chargers,  kit  and  barrack  furniture,  but  owing  to  losses  at  play 
and  delayed  remittances,  these  young  gentlemen  could  only 
offer  prices  very  disproportionate  to  what  these  properties 
had  cost  me  a  month  earlier. 

So  much,  indeed,  they  admitted,  one  and  all,  genteelly 
and  with  feeling. 

Now  since  a  horse  is  a  horse  whether  in  His  Majesty's 
service  or  in  civil  affairs,  I  saw  no  reason  to  sacrifice  my  stable. 

My  arms,  uniforms  and  saddlery  were  another  matter,  and 
these  exchanged  hands  at  sums  which  aroused  astonishment 
even  in  a  mind  so  totally  ignorant  of  values  as  my  own. 

I  remember  that  these  exchanges  were  not  effected  without 
some  humorous  passages:  my  visitors  tendering  promises  or 

[62] 


CHAPTER  SIX 


notes  of  hand  endorsed  by  persons  outside  the  regiment,  all,  I 
was  assured,  of  the  utmost  affluence,  but  not  of  my  acquaintance. 

I,  upon  my  part,  insisted  upon  money  down.  "Silly  Suffolk, 
I  am,"  thought  I,  "and  these,  no  doubt,  are  the  ways  of  York- 
shire, yet  I  am  not  to  be  wheedled  out  of  my  eye-teeth  whilst 
awake  and  sober,  either!  " 

Not  that  my  friends  were  wholly  deficient  in  a  delicacy  of  a 
sort,  for  whilst  my  boots  and  uniforms  were  objects  of  no  in- 
terest to  such  as  were  obviously  shorter  and  slighter  than  I, 
yet  the  three  or  four  young  gentlemen  who  chanced  to  be  of 
about  my  inches  were  everyone  of  them  eager  to  purchase 
a  kit  —  much  of  which  had  never  been  worn  —  not,  look  you, 
for  their  own  use,  but  for  friends  —  in  other  regiments. 

My  last  minutes  were  disturbed  by  requests  for  drink- 
money  from  every  man  of  the  sergeants'  mess  who  knew  me  by 
sight,  and  when  these  were  satisfied  and  my  horse  stood  at 
the  door,  I  recall  a  couple  of  captains  demanding  settlement 
of  wagers  which  I  had  not  the  faintest  recollection  of  making 
upon  some  fight  of  which  I  had  never  heard. 

These  ultimate  impositions  I  had  spirit  enough  to  resist, 
and,  although  the  claimants  talked  loudly  and  looked  big,  some- 
thing in  my  manner  must  have  deterred  them  from  pushing 
their  business  too  impudently.  They  discovered  that  they  had 
called  at  the  wrong  address  and  I  heard  them  laughing  as  they 
descended  the  stair. 

If  I  have  dwelt  too  long  and  too  minutely  upon  the  inci- 
dents of  my  last  hours  as  a  commissioned  officer  in  His 
Majesty's  cavalry  arm,  my  excuse  must  be  that  the  events  of 
the  first  crisis  in  my  life  are  to  this  hour  more  sharply  delineated 
upon  the  tablets  of  memory  than  later  troubles  and  successes 
We  recall  the  first  fence  of  a  run,  the  first  round  of  a  fight; 
tho'  subsequent  obstacles  and  encounters  decline  to  arrange 
themselves  consecutively. 

[63] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QJUALHY 

I  had  borne  myself  with  composure  under  the  eyes  of  my 
comrades,  but  the  load  of  my  disaster  weighed  more  heavily 
upon  me  every  minute  as  I  left  my  regiment  behind.  At  the 
Black  Swan,  whither  I  repaired,  it  seemed  to  me  that  the 
ostler  divined  my  trouble,  that  the  boots  had  learned  my  dis- 
grace, and  I  imagined  myself  an  object  of  compassion  to  the 
plump  and  cleanly  chambermaid.  I  shrunk  from  descending  to 
the  coffee-room,  and  was  hard  put  to  it  to  keep  myself  from 
yielding  to  a  passion  of  tears. 

Rallying  my  manhood  with  a  promise  of  present  action,  I 
left  my  chamber  and  applied  myself  to  the  two  preoccupations 
which  increasingly  possessed  me. 

The  first  of  these  was  to  provide  myself  with  a  friend  by 
whose  mouth  to  demand  satisfaction  from  Captain  Wallop  and 
Lieutenant  Ganthony.  The  second  was  to  address  to  my  father 
an  account  of  the  circumstances  with  which  my  readers  are  al- 
ready familiar. 

In  placing  these  duties  in  this  order  I  have  followed  the 
precedence  and  relative  significance  which  they  assumed 
at  the  time  in  my  mind.  But  a  singular  difficulty  opposed  itself 
to  the  pursuit  of  my  quarrel.  I  knew  not  a  soul  whom  I  could 
ask  to  carry  my  cartels. 

To  apply  to  a  member  of  the  mess  from  which  I  had  been 
expelled  was  an  ignominy  from  which  I  recoiled,  yet  beyond 
this  vicious  circle  I  was  acquainted  with  no  person  of  condi- 
tion in  the  city  or  the  three  ridings. 

The  letters  of  commendation  promised  by  my  father  had  been 
forgotten  or  delayed,  and,  although  there  must  have  been 
gentlemen  of  the  neighbourhood  who  would  have  been  gratified 
with  my  acquaintance  a  few  hours  earlier  on  no  better  vouchers 
than  my  name  and  uniform,  yet,  having  lost  my  service  I  shrank 
from  foisting  myself  upon  the  one  or  two  whose  names  stuck  in 
my  memory  for  no  better  reason  than  to  embroil  them  in  my 

[64] 


CHAPTER  SIX 


quarrel.  So,  having  satisfied  appetite  with  a  cut  off  the  cold 
sirloin  and  a  tankard  of  stingo,  finding  progress  impossible  in 
one  direction  I  essayed  another,  and  called  for  pens  and  paper. 

I  confess  to  misgivings  that  the  impression  conveyed  to  you 
by  the  foregoing  pages  is  sufficiently  vague  and  diffuse,  but, 
at  its  worst,  it  is  clarity  and  conciseness  compared  with  what 
would  have  been  gathered  from  any  account  penned  by  me  at 
the  time. 

My  education,  so  far  as  it  was  literary,  had  ceased  when 
I  entered  Eton,  where  the  only  useful  accomplishments  I  ac- 
quired —  I  write  in  good  faith  after  the  lapse  of  over  half 
a  century  —  were  the  arts  of  cookery  and  self-defence.  To 
prepare  kidneys,  toast  and  breakfast-coffee  for  the  senior 
boy  who  fagged  me,  and  to  stand  up  to  a  heavier  fellow  and 
take  punishment  without  flinching,  were,  I  maintain,  excellent 
accomplishments  in  their  way,  but,  whether  they  could  not 
have  been  acquired  at  less  expense  than  my  seven  years  in 
form  entailed  upon  my  father,  is  arguable. 

Doubtless  during  those  years  a  modicum  of  Latin  and  Greek 
passed  through  my  mental  system.  I  was  in  Cornelius  Nepos 
when  I  went  up  and  construed  his  Miltiades  at  sight  to  my 
tutor  at  our  first  interview,  yet,  two  years  after  leaving  Mr. 
Glassdale's  house  I  turned  to  that  same  life  in  an  idle  hour 
and  was  mortified  to  find  how  little  I  could  make  of  it. 

Of  history,  geography,  arithmetic  and  my  mother  tongue 
I  learned  nothing  at  my  college,  and  forgot  the  little  I  took 
there,  and  during  the  past  three  years,  spent  with  huntsmen 
and  gamekeepers,  I  had  seldom  opened  a  book  or  cut  a  pen. 

Thus,  when  my  sheet  was  laid  to  my  liking,  sand  and  pen- 
knife disposed  within  reach,  I  dipped  my  quill  and  found  myself 
at  a  stand. 

A  plain,  straightforward  tale  of  what  I  had  endured  and 
done  would  have  afforded  no  very  pleasant  reading,  but  even 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITT 

this  was  beyond  my  power,  and  the  blotted  scrawl  which  I  at 
last  achieved,  ill-composed,  worse-spelled  and  vilely  written, 
was  not  calculated  to  soften  a  parent's  displeasure  at  finding 
again  upon  his  hands  a  son  whom  he  had  thought  provided 
with  an  honourable  profession. 

The  composition  of  this  document  cost  me  an  infinity  of 
pains,  many  contractions  of  the  brows  and  hard  breathing, 
much  gazing  at  the  ceiling  for  inspiration  and  such-like  devices. 

The  coffee-room  of  the  tavern  was  divided  into  stalls  seated 
for  four,  the  privacy  of  each  secured  by  high  partitions. 

The  winter's  day  being  upon  the  wane  and  chilly,  I  had 
chosen  a  table  which  gave  upon  the  hearth,  and  was  thus  myself 
open  to  observation  from  anyone  using  the  chimney  seats.  One 
of  these  was  occupied  by  a  small  elderly  person  neatly  dressed 
in  drab  small-clothes,  a  long  flapped  waistcoat  of  parti-coloured 
stripe  and  a  high-collared,  bottle-green  riding-coat  with  silver 
buttons. 

The  rain  fell  softly  without  and  none  passed  in  the  street. 
The  house  lay  empty  and  quiet,  for  the  servants  were  at  their 
meal.  We  two  seemed  the  only  guests  the  tavern  entertained, 
and  no  wonder,  for  the  season  of  year  was  unsuited  to  travel 
and  the  times  unquiet. 

He  had  hung  his  wig  upon  the  newell  of  his  settle;  it  was 
a  small  gray  bob  tied  with  a  black  riband,  and  had  drawn  one 
foot  from  its  shoe  to  toast  it  at  the  log,  moving  the  toes  inside 
the  stocking  in  enjoyment  of  the  warmth.  From  time  to  time 
he  shifted  the  long  clay  from  the  middle  to  the  angle  of  his 
mouth,  the  better  to  observe  me  (  as  it  struck  me,  puzzling 
my  spelling  with  a  roving  eye).  Nor  was  his  scrutiny  more  un- 
pleasant than  that  of  the  tavern  cat  upon  his  knee,  for  beside 
his  evident  age,  sixty  at  the  least,  and  his  inoffensive  littleness, 
the  wholesome  nut-brown  cheek  and  humorous  lines  about 
the  mouth  drew  me,  and  our  eyes  met  more  than  once,  when, 

[66] 


CHAPTER  SIX 


as  I  now  remember,  it  was  mine  that  dropt,  finding  a  cer- 
tain alert  brightness  in  his  which  I  saw  no  reason  to  stare 
down. 

"Quarrel"  was  the  word  I  had  stuck  at,  finding  it  look  wrong 
in  every  arrangement  of  letters  after  trial  made  upon  the 
spoiled  sheets,  for  I  had  not  pleased  myself  at  my  first  attempt. 
"Deuce  take  it!"  quoth  I  under  my  breath,  spelling  it  again  in 
my  head,  my  eye  roving  until,  wholly  unconsciously,  it  rested 
upon  the  bald  noddle  by  the  hearth. 

"Two  r's,  monsieur!" 

His  answer  to  my  unspoken  question  fell  so  patly  that  I 
fairly  jumped. 

"Yer  pairdon  is  begged,  monsieur  —  sir,  I  would  say;  ma 
remairk  wass  wholly  invo-luntary:  it  escaipit  me,  it  escaipit 
me!"  He  set  down  the  cat  gently  and  arose,  making  me  a  grave 
and  courteous  inclination,  but  I,  still  gaping  upon  him,  stam- 
mered some  smiling  acknowledgment  or  other,  and  proceeded 
to  enquire  how  in  the  name  of  wonder  he  knew  the  very  word 
and  letter  that  I  was  bogged  at. 

"'Tis  a  gift,  young  sir,  a  puir  gift  of  my  ain,  and  ^at  times, 
a  somewhat  embairrassing  one;  tho'  by  yer  pairteecular  cour- 
tesy, not  upon  this  occasion.  But  a'm  thenking  that  my  best 
amends  wull  be  to  place  my  puir  sairvices  at  yer  disposal." 

My  mind  flew  to  my  postponed  demands  for  satisfaction, 
but  as  instantly  rejected  the  possibility  of  despatching  a  cartel 
by  so  elderly  and  unmartial  a  second.  I  did  not  so  much  as 
open  my  lips,  and  had  not  framed  my  reply  when  for  the  second 
time  I  was  forestalled. 

"Let  the  cairtel  wait,  mon  —  sir,  if  ye  wull  pairmet  me 
to  advise.  We  wull  return  to  that  maitter  later.  With  your 
pairmeesion  a  letter  to  a  parent  ( 'tis  to  yer  father,  I 
believe  ?  )  takes  precedence. " 

Again  I  stammered  assent;  what  else  remained  to  do?  It 

[67] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

was  as  when  a  novice  meets  a  master  at  the  chess;  my  move 
was  divined  before  I  touched  the  piece. 

"Come,  now,  a  bargain!"  went  on  this  remarkable  little 
old  fellow  in  his  fine  round,  mellow  voice  with  its  strange 
Northern  accent.  "Here  we  encounter  ane  anither,  twa  gentle- 
men o'  fortune,  temporarily  disengaged,  and,  as  one  may  say, 
upo'  neutral  ground,  for  a  tavern  is  free  to  all.  We  might  main- 
tain a  courteous  resairve,  convairse  on  generals,  or  not  at  all; 
the  coorse  is  pairmeesible  and  judeecious  in  war  time.  But  I 
think  better  o'  the  occasion.  Let  us  sairve  ane  anither  turn 
and  turn  aboot  in  such  capawcities  as  our  several  experiences 
suggest.  To  begin,  regaird  me  as  your  deectionary;  a  time  may 
come  when  ye  may  assist  me  ( tho'  aw'm  thenking  ye  may 
escape  me  a'thegither  unless  I  pit  in  ma  claim  airly,  for  noo 
that  I  regaird  ye  creetically,  I  micht  vara  weel  ha  bin  ye  father's 
father. ")  He  chuckled,  laid  down  his  pipe,  and  extended  a 
handsome  snuff-box  across  the  gangway  in  token  of  amity. 

There  was  no  rebuffing  such  shrewd  kindliness  had  I  been 
so  churlish  as  to  attempt  it.  My  story  has  shown  already  that 
I  was  a  youth  of  an  open  and  unsuspicious  temperament  with 
whom  a  senior  of  pleasant  address  readily  got  into  touch. 
That  this  humorous  and  inoffensive  stranger  could  harbour 
sinister  designs  did  not  cross  my  mind.  Without  friend  or 
acquaintance  within  two  hundred  miles  of  me,  I  was  feeling 
the  need  of  sympathy  keenly,  and  accepted  the  gentleman's 
good-natured  advances  for  what  they  might  be  worth. 

Yet,  with  the  proper  pride  of  youth  I  would  not  surrender 
the  privacy  of  my  affairs  at  the  first  summons,  and  taking  him 
at  his  word,  used  him  merely  to  supply  the  deficiencies  of  my 
orthography,  suspecting  the  while  that  those  remarkably 
penetrating  hazel  eyes  were  reading  my  thoughts  like  an  open 
book. 

The  letter  being  signed  and  sealed,  I  thanked  my  new  ac- 

[68] 


CHAPTER  SIX 


quaintance  and  had  risen  to  seek  the  post  master,  when  Hymus 
presented  himself  at  the  door  of  the  apartment  with  news  in 
his  eye. 

"Your  servant,  captain,"  quoth  he,  saluting. 

"Await  me  outside,"  I  answered,  thinking  it  uncivil  to  bring 
a  common  fellow  into  a  room  reserved  for  gentlemen,  but  my 
fellow-guest  interposed. 

"By  your  leave,  sir,  have  him  in  (if  'twas  masel  ye  were 
conseddering).  'Tis  wet  outside,  and  I  can  always  do  with 
an  honest  soldier. " 

Arising,  he  resumed  his  shoe,  adjusted  his  wig,  and,  taking 
his  stand  before  the  hearth,  seemed  in  an  instant  to  have  added 
three  inches  to  his  stature.  None  would  now  have  remarked 
upon  his  deficiency  in  height;  the  squared  jaw,  the  firm,  wide 
mouth,  resolute  glance,  and  easy,  erect,  poise  of  the  man  star- 
tled me. 

"You  are  this  gentleman's  sairvant?"  he  enquired,  taking 
the  situation  into  his  own  hands  and  regarding  my  man  keenly. 

"I  am,  maj — colonel,"  replied  Hymus,  to  my  great  aston- 
ishment, bringing  his  heels  together  smartly,  and  saluting  with 
the  exaggerated,  stiff  swing,  at  that  time  due  to  superior  rank. 

The  figure  before  the  hearth,  erect  now  as  a  dart  and  instinct 
with  martial  dignity,  returned  the  salute  with  an  action  so 
prompt,  easy  and  gracious  that  my  countenance  fell,  and 
conscious  of  some  want  of  deference  in  my  previous  address, 
I  arose. 

"Sit,  sir!  Sit,  I  command!  Yes,  your  fellow  is  right;  trust  an 
old  trooper  to  detect  the  pipeclay!  But  it  may  be  he  has  some- 
thing for  your  private  ear;  ef  so  I  retire;  ef,  on  the  other  hand, 
I  can  advise  you  upon  any  trifling  deeficulty,  command  me!" 

"My  dear  sir — colonel,"  I  began. 

"Yes,  if  you  will  have  it," — producing  his  card,  "^Eneas 
Gunn,  Colonel  of  the  Stralsund  Regiment,  in  the  sairvice  of 

[69] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

His  Majesty  the  King  of  Sweden."  He  raised  a  finger  to  his 
brow  as  he  named  his  royal  master. 

"Then  —  then  —  then!"  I  stuttered  and  stopt,  seeing  my 
difficulties  lessened. 

"Yes,  yes,  yes!"  he  replied,  smiling,  acceding  with  a  nod 
to  my  unspoken  request,  "but,  all  in  good  time;  let  us  learn  the 
poseetion  of  the  enemy  before  we  offer  battle.  Speak,  my  man, 
but  first  close  the  door;  aw'm  parteecular  as  to  my  defences." 

"First,  then,  captain,"  said  Hymus,  "here  be  five  o'  yar 
pound  notes.  Praise  be  to  God,  and  thanks  to  yew,  I  be  a  free 
man  again!" 

"But  —  but  'tis  impossible!  Your  name  will  go  up  to  the 
Horse  Guards,  and  if  ye  get  your  discharge  within  a  month  you 
may  think  yourself  devilish  lucky!" 

"On  forlough  meantime,  captain;  that's  what  come  o' 
stan'nin  well  wi'  the  one  gen'lman  in  the  orficers'  mess." 

I  stared. 

"Senior  major  come  back  this  arternoon,  from  leave  (that 
was  a-burying  of  his  mother,  they  say  ),  and  he  takes  over  the 
command  quick  sticks,  C.O.  bein'  werry,  werry  bad  wi'  the 
blues.  Row  wi'  yew,  captain,  they  do  say,  his  business;  put  the 
capstone  on,  in  a  manner  o'  speaking,  for  the  fit  have  been  due 
for  a  week." 

"Anyways,  captain,  as  soon  as  I  found  Major  Dorset  in  com- 
mand I  just  upped  and  sent  my  name  along  astin'  for  a  word 
in  private  most  partick'ler,  and  lays  my  case  afore  him  as  man 
to  man.  He's  a  man,  yar  honour,  he  is,  and  by  yer  leave,  sir, 
is  werry  sorry  for  ye.  'The  young  gen'lman  was  too  precip'tite, 
Hymus/  sez  he, 'he  were  werry  ill-advised.'  'Astin  yer  pardon, 
major,'  sez  I,  'he  were  never  advised  by  nobody,  there  bein' 
ne'er  a  soul  but  yar  honour  to  run  to,  and  yew  on  leave!'  'An 
that's  so,'  sez  he,  'and  the  milk's  spilt,  but  'tis  dev'lish  hard 
cheese  for  the  young  gen'lman,  an'  Gawd  He  knows,'  sez 

[70] 


CHAPTER  SIX 


he,  'what  my  Lord  Blakenham,  his  father'll  say,  and  what 
discredit  'twill  bring  upon  the  mess.'" 

These  latter  considerations  recurred  to  me  later,  at  the 
moment  I  was  full  of  my  immediate  concerns  and  somewhat 
bewildered  as  to  which  to  apply  myself  to  first. 

"Well,  what's  done  is  done,"  said  I,  as  much  to  myself  as  to 
my  company;  "but  what's  to  do  next?" 

"  Let  your  man  see  to  your  horses  and  find  himself  lodgings," 
said  Colonel  Gunn,  taking  snuff. 


MEMOIRS  OF 

PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

CHAPTER    SEVEN 
NEMO  ME  IMPUNE  LACESSIT 


A  you  will  have  foreseen,  Colonel  Gunn  undertook  to 
deliver  my  cartels. 
He  regarded  the  insults  as  too  serious  to  be  purged 
by  any  satisfaction  short  of  the  most  drastic. 

"We  have  our  future  to  consedder,"  said  he.  "We  are  young 
and  cannot  afford  to  give  away  points.  In  fact,  it  behoves  us 
to  set  such  a  stamp  upon  the  circumstances  that  there  shall 
be  no  taint  o'  ambiguity  as  to  whaur  we  stood  in  the  maitter, 
what  passed,  and  how  we  cam  oot  o't. 

"I  have  known  some  vara  successful  careers  founded  upon 
meetings  such  as  these  we  are  contemplating."  He  proceeded 
to  furnish  me  with  instances  of  the  behaviour  of  young  Scottish 
soldiers  of  fortune  in  affairs  of  honour;  how  a  Mackay  of  his 
acquaintance  had  cut  his  way  to  royal  favour  with  the  sabre, 
and  a  cadet  of  the  Sinclair  family,  a  poor  gentleman,  by  dint 
of  sedulous  practice  with  the  hair-trigger  had  "shot  up"  into 
the  highest  and  most  exclusive  circles  in  Stockholm. 

One  would  have  said  that  he  accepted  the  duty  with  a  kind 
of  sober  zest.  In  his  own  service,  and  in  the  land  of  his  adoption, 
it  is  to  be  supposed  that  his  rank  had  for  long  debarred  him 
from  interposing  in  the  disputes  of  subalterns  save  in  the 
capacity  of  president  of  a  court  of  honour.  Being  here  in 

[72] 


CHAPTER  SEFEN 


Britain  on  long  leave  with  time  upon  his  hands,  and,  so  to  say, 
en  gar$on,  he  embraced  the  opportunity  of  figuring  again  as  a 
young  fellow  among  young  fellows,  and  trotted  off  to  the 
barracks  next  morning  upon  my  first  charger,  drest  for  the  part 
and  with  Hymus  for  groom,  the  admired  of  every  open-mouthed 
shopman  in  Coney  Street. 

It  was  a  sleeveless  errand:  Captain  Wallop  being  still  by 
the  surgeon's  orders  in  a  darkened  room  for  concussion  and 
injury  to  the  eyes,  was  pronounced  a  non-combatant  for  the 
present. 

"Whilk  we  must  the  mair  regret,  Mr.  Fanshawe,  as  I  learn 
that  your  regiment  has  got  the  route  for  Ireland  and  may 
march  for  Liverpool  any  day.  These  little  differences,  sir,  are 
best  settled  promptly.  It  would  be  troublesome  and  chairgable 
for  us  to  follow  our  friens  to  the  Curragh  —  if  I  ha*  the  name 
o'  their  billet  correctly  —  tho'  we  must  certainly  make  the 
journey  if  needful." 

"And  the  lieutenant?"  I  asked. 

"Was  oot,  Mr.  Fanshawe;  I  expeckit  his  return  some  twa 
hours,  but  found  no  encouragement  to  remain  longer.  I  will 
do  myself  the  pleesure  of  waiting  upon  him  to-morrow." 

I  cried  out  upon  the  trouble  I  was  giving  him,  but  he  made 
little  of  it,  and  having  lunched  in  my  company  led  me  out, 
as  he  said,  to  see  the  sights  of  the  city,  a  dull  place  with  an 
intricacy  of  narrow  cobbled  streets  overhung  by  ancient 
timbered  houses,  and  a  prodigious  number  of  churches,  of 
which  those  that  elsewhere  would  be  reckoned  notable  are  so 
overshadowed  by  neighbourhood  to  the  minster  as  to  seem 
below  their  merits. 

This  erection,  the  cathedral  church,  or  minster,  is  a  mon- 
strous pile  in  the  barb'rous  Gothic  taste,  which  yet  by  its 
complexity  and  vastness  so  imposes  upon  the  beholder  that  he 
would  not  wish  it  otherwise  though  sensible  of  its  defects. 

[73] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

All  its  stone-work  is  subdued  to  a  uniform  mellow  tint  of  age 
which  varies  with  the  changes  of  the  seasons  and  the  positions 
of  the  sun.  More  especially  at  sunset,  as  I  had  many  oppor- 
tunities of  observing  later,  do  the  twinn'd  towers  of  its  western 
front  take  on  the  softest  and  most  surprising  reflections  of  pink 
and  orange. 

But  to  our  business.  The  colonel  and  I  had  reached,  as  I 
remember,  that  end  of  the  Market  Square  known  as  The  Pave- 
ment, when  I  perceived  two  persons  in  the  act  of  turning  into 
a  tailor's  shop,  in  the  taller  of  whom  I  recognised  Lieutenant 
Ganthony  and  in  the  shorter  a  fellow  officer,  one  Cornet 
Meeking. 

Communicating  what  I  had  seen  to  my  companion,  I  left 
him  to  take  what  measures  he  thought  proper,  and  was  seeking 
my  lodging  to  await  his  report,  when  a  passing  shower  drove 
me  into  the  coffee-room  of  a  neighbouring  hostelry.  Chusing 
a  secluded  corner,  I  studied  a  stained  and  crumpled  news-sheet 
and  possessed  my  soul  with  such  patience  that  the  stuffiness 
of  the  room,  or  the  refreshment  which  I  ordered  for  the  good 
of  the  house,  so  wrought  with  me  that  I  nodded  and  presently 
slept. 

I  had  not  taken  matters  so  easily  had  there  remained  any- 
thing upon  which  I  could  employ  myself,  but  conceiving  that 
all  was  done  which  lay  with  me  to  do,  the  anxieties  and  emo- 
tions of  the  previous  few  days  assailed  me  and  I  yielded  to 
their  importunities,  something  inappropriately  in  my  choice 
of  place  as  will  presently  appear. 

The  doze  may  have  lasted  a  matter  of  five  minutes,  though 
I  had  the  sensation  of  having  slept  for  hours  and  traversed  a 
hundred  leagues,  when,  hearing  myself  named,  I  sat  up  with 
the  answer  upon  my  lips  which  we  gave  at  Eton  when  school 
was  called. 

My  reply,  if  it  were  articulate,  aroused  no  attention,  for  the 

[74] 


CHAPTER  SEFEN 


reason  that  three  persons  unseen,  to  whom  I  myself  was 
invisible,  were  discussing  my  affair  so  earnestly  as  to  drown 
all  voices  save  their  own. 

"D  —  n  it  all,  Meeking!"  cried  a  voice  I  knew,  "I  will 
have  sabres;  I  am  the  insulted  party!" 

"My  G  —  d,  Ganthony,  will  ye  leave  it  to  me,  or  won't  ye?" 

"Of  course  I  leave  it  to  ye,  you're  my  second,  arn't  ye? 
But  still—" 

"Pairmet  me  to  obsairve,  Mr.  Meeking,  that  your  prenci- 
pal's  presence  here  is  pairfeckly  irregular." 

"All  right;  I  am  off.  But  remember,  Meeking,  I'll  not  meet 
him  with  pistols;  d'ye  hear?" 

"Very  well,  if  you  must  have  it  so,  but  the  man  knows 
nothing  of  the  sabre." 

"Ye  wull  excuse  me,  Cornet  Meeking,  but  this  is  not  'very 
well,'  and  we  do  not  agree  to  your  condeetions,  and," 
continued  the  colonel's  voice,  its  provincial  accent  growing 
more  pronounced,  "we  most  aibsolutely,  and  entirely,  and 
finally  rebut  the  assairtion  that  ye  are  the  insultit  pairty.  The 
blows,  whilk  were  not  all  given  by  one  side,  were  given  in  our 
quarters,  whaur  'twill  puzzle  ye  to  explain  your  intrusion  at 

midnight  ( let  alone  the  company  ye   brocht   wi'  ye ),   and 
» 

("Stuff!"    interrupted    Ganthony.) 

"  —  if  ye  are  the  insultit  party,  hoo  comes  it,  Mr.  Meeking, 
that  'tis  we  that  have  to  pursue  ye,  and  waylay  ye  to  obtain 
satisfaiction  ?  No,  sir,  I  will  not  attend  till  ye,  but  I  am 
bound  to  tell  ye  I  am  finding  yer  pree-sence  and  yer  carriage 

a  deeficult  maitter  to  stomach.    Once   more,  Mr.    Meeking 
» 

"Break  it  off,  Meekie;  the  Fifth  can  pick  and  chuse,  'tis  too 
great  a  condescension!  And  as  for  you,  Mr.  Thingumbob, 
I'll  just  bid  ye  good  day,  for  I  haven't  the  honour  of  knowing 

[75J 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITT 

anyone  in  your  beggarly  service,  and,  now  I  come  to  think 
on  't,  we've  only  your  own  word  for  't  — " 

"Sir!" 

" —  that  ye're  not  some  lousey  Scots  adventurer. " 

There  was  gunpowder  in  the  air;  I  leapt  to  my  feet  with 
an  instinct  for  what  should  follow  and  but  just  in  time  to 
see  the  little  colonel  administer  so  fervent  a  box  upon  the 
ear  of  his  insulter  that  the  tall  dragoon,  who  was  standing, 
leapt  back,  trode  upon  a  spittoon  and  stumbled,  and  on  recovery, 
finding  himself  wholly  unable  to  meet  the  formidable  eye  and 
onset  of  the  old  lion  he  had  aroused,  turned  a  shoulder  in 
retreat.  Down  upon  that  shoulder  whistled  the  colonel's 
riding  wand.  "Ah!  —  Yah! — Damnation!"  yelled  the  re- 
cipient of  this  courtesy,  and  clapping  a  gloved  hand  to  the  place 
and  executing  a  rapid  "threes'  about,"  made  for  the  open  door 
pursued  by  his  puny  enemy. 

Meeking  and  I  ran  to  the  window  and  beheld  the  discom- 
fited lieutenant  driven  across  the  wet  cobblestones  into  the 
narrow  entrance  of  the  shambles,  receiving  a  round  half-dozen 
sounding  stripes  ere  he  distanced  his  pursuer. 

In  half  a  minute  Colonel  Gunn  re-entered  the  room,  he  had 
adjusted  his  wig  and  cuffs  and  regained  the  fine  dry  precision 
of  manner  which  the  foregoing  interlude  had  momentarily 
ruffled.  Bowing  to  the  cornet,  who  stood  the  image  of  dismay, 
"Your  sairvant,  Mr.  Meeking,"  said  he:  "I  mek  you  every 
apology  due  from  a  gentleman  to  a  gentleman  for  sae  abruptly 
breaking  our  colloquy.  Ye  wull  nottice  that  I  forbore  the 
fallow  longer  than  was  maybe  conseestent  with  my  honour; 
that  only  —  only  under  the  extremity  of  provocation,  did  I 
inflect  the  pairsonal  chastisement  whilk  his  insolence  demand- 
it." 

Young  Meeking  mumbled  something  unintelligible,  and  the 
small  warrior,  perceiving  the  lad's  distress,  proceeded  in  tones 


CHAPTER  SEFEN 


of  the  most  exquisitely  modulated  politeness  ( as  tho'  a 
game-cock  should  suddenly  droop  his  hackles  and  coo  like  a 
turtle  ),  "  If,  sir,  it  should  occur  to  ye  —  or  to  the  gentlemen 
o'  yer  honourable  mess  —  (to  whom  ye  will  not  fail  to  give  a 
pairfeckly  unvairnished  vairsion  o'  the  affair  ),  that  I  exceeded 
my  rights  in  the  maitter  o'  punishment,  I  would  pray  ye  to 
consedder  for  your  own  pairt,  and  to  rapresent  to  your  friens, 
that  although  I  seldom  reply  to  a  pairsonal  inciveelity  with 
mair  than  a  single  stripe,  yet,  upo'  this  occasion  I  refleckit 
that  the  fallow  had  insultit  my  sairvice  and  my  nation  as  well 
as  masel.  Sax  skelps,  I  thenk;  I  doot  na  mair  than  sax,  wass 
it?" 

Meeking  agreed  hastily  and  unreservedly  that  six  was  the 
precise  number,  and  was  ready  to  take  oath  that  the  colonel 
had  bestowed  neither  more  nor  less,  nor  exceeded  by  the  small- 
est degree  the  necessities  of  the  case.  He  then  accepted  a  pinch 
from  the  little  old  gentleman's  box  ( "Presentit  to  me  by 
Marshall  Keith,  sirs"  ),  and  took  his  leave  as  promptly  as 
was  possible,  being  escorted  to  the  door  by  my  friend,  hat 
in  hand,  who  impressed  his  address  upon  him,  assuring  him  of 
the  pleasure  he  would  feel  in  hearing  from  him  at  his  lodging 
that  evening  or  on  the  morrow. 

"Our  more  immediate  beesiness  must  be  defairred,"  said 
he,  "for  it  has  been  held  that  a  prencipal  who  so  far  forgets 
himself  as  to  insult  his  adversary's  second  must  give  saitis- 
faiction  to  the  second  before  meeting  the  oreeginal  adversary. " 
And  to  this  Meeking  agreeing,  with  many  inclinations  and  ex- 
pressions of  politeness,  made  his  escape. 


t77l 


MEMOIRS  OF  A 

PERSON  OF  QUALITY 


CHAPTER  EIGHT 
I  GIVE    MY  PROOFS 


IT  is  time  for  me  to  wind  up  these  trivial  and  involved 
incidents   which    seemed    so  important    at  the  moment, 
and  so  nearly  to  touch  my  honour,    but  which   hardly 
affect  the  story  of  my  life. 

No  regimental  mess  could  ignore  what  had  passed  had  its  in- 
dividual members  been  never  so  complaisant.  The  city  was 
buzzing  with  six  different  versions  of  the  caning,  and  at  least 
as  many  reasons  for  its  infliction,  some  of  which  coming  to 
the  ears  of  the  acting  commandant  afforded  him  excuse  for 
action.  Though  in  the  midst  of  the  engagements  and  annoy- 
ances incidental  to  changing  quarters,  he,  as  a  man  of  honour, 
solicitous  for  the  good  name  of  his  command,  insisted  that 
satisfaction  should  be  given  and  demanded  according  to  the  cir- 
cumstances. 

I  had,  therefore,  the  honour  of  acting  as  second  to  Colonel 
Gunn  in  his  affair  with  Lieutenant  Ganthony. 

It  would  appear  that  the  Fifth  had  become  notorious  foi 
early  morning  expeditions  of  a  hostile  nature.  The  country- 
people  had  grown  inconveniently  curious  as  to  the  movements 
of  hackney  coaches  in  the  lanes  and  field-roads  in  the  vicinity, 
more  especially  in  the  directions  of  Knavesmire  and  Hob 
Moor  —  the  favourite  rendezvous. 

[78] 


CHAPTER  EIGHT 


This  being  represented  to  me  by  the  second  on  the  other 
side,  and  all  grounds  being  equally  acceptable  to  my  principal 
and  to  myself,  it  was  agreed  that  the  affair  should  be  settled 
on  Clifton  Ings,  an  extensive  meadow,  or  common,  beside  the 
river  at  some  distance  above  the  city. 

The  morning  was  dark  and  wet.  We  breakfasted  by  candle- 
light, and  having  over-night  secured  the  services  of  a  surgeon, 
called  for  a  coach  and  picked  him  up  in  Lendal.  The  drive 
was  long  and  chilly,  the  coach  damp  and  smelling  of  mildew; 
the  surgeon,  a  young  man,  yawned  incessantly,  and  excused 
himself  upon  the  score  of  having  sat  up  all  night  with  a  patient. 

The  colonel  was  uniformly  cheerful  and  even  jocose,  and 
held  me  in  conversation  until  we  left  the  road,  and  by  the 
rolling  of  the  coach  seemed  upon  softer  and  less  even  ground. 

Here  we  found  the  other  party  awaiting  us,  cloaked  figures 
in  a  greyness  of  fog  and  wet,  with  two  coaches  dimly  visible 
in  the  background,  their  horses  lost  in  steam. 

But  although  we  had  kept  our  appointments  the  river  had 
been  beforehand  with  us:  a  flood  was  rising  every  minute  and 
so  little  of  the  green  remained  uninvaded,  and  that  so  plashy 
underfoot,  that  upon  hasty  consultation  I  concurred  in  a 
change  of  ground,  and  getting  inside  again  and  bidding  our 
driver  keep  the  others  in  sight,  we  presently  found  ourselves 
upon  a  dryer  and  smaller  pasture  enclosed  by  high  thorn 
hedges,  which,  as  I  think,  they  called  Bootham  Stray. 

I  had  observed  whilst  following  our  leaders  that  we  ourselves 
were  followed  by  the  third  coach. 

The  cause  of  quarrel  being  of  an  aggravated  nature  the 
distance  was  agreed  at  ten  paces.  At  his  first  fire  my  principal 
disabled  his  man,  lodging  a  ball  in  his  right  forearm,  and  al- 
though we  most  obligingly  offered  to  continue  the  duel  with 
our  left  hand,  the  regimental  surgeon  refused  his  sanction  and 
honour  was  declared  satisfied. 

[79] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

During  this  encounter  the  lieutenant  carried  himself  with 
more  firmness  than  I  had  given  him  credit  for.  Ten  paces  is 
an  unpleasant  proximity;  one  can  see,  as  it  were,  half-way 
down  the  barrel  of  one's  opponent's  pistol.  Ganthony  was 
plainly  one  of  the  many  who  can  walk  through  a  difficult  part 
with  due  preparation,  but  lack  the  ready  spirit  needed  for 
emergency,  and  this  was  the  colonel's  view  as  expressed  sub- 
sequently: "The  man  may  be  a  brave  enough  fellow,  but  is  no 
soldier." 

This  being  the  first  affair  in  which  I  had  assisted  in  any  ca- 
pacity, or  indeed  had  witnessed,  I  was  nervously  anxious  to  bear 
myself  with  becoming  decorum,  and  at  this  juncture  was 
gratified  to  see  my  principal  turn  to  me  with  a  nod  of  com- 
mendation. 

"And  now,  Mr.  Fanshawe,  we  exchange  capawceeties. 
'Tis  impossible  for  either  of  us  to  pursue  our  quarrel  with  our 
man,  there,  for  the  present  at  least.  Let  it  stand  so:  and  for 
the  other  maitter,  pairmet  me." 

He  crossed  the  ground,  hat  in  hand  in  the  rain,  and  was 
presently  closely  engaged  with  the  senior  major,  who,  with 
Captain  Wallop,  had  occupied  the  third  coach;  the  acting 
commandant  having  taken  this  stringent  means  of  securing  the 
presence  of  a  gentleman  who  was  less  anxious  to  afford  sat- 
isfaction than  is  usual  in  his  profession. 

We  heard  later  that  he  had  malingered  until  his  injuries, 
or  rather  disfigurements,  had  been  adjudged  insufficient 
excuse  for  declining  to  meet  me. 

The  first  affair  had  been  despatched  in  comparative  privacy, 
but  the  shots  brought  to  the  ground  a  company  of  lads  and  idle 
persons  who  closed  in  upon  us  the  better  to  see  (  the  weather 
growing  increasingly  thick  and  the  rain  heavier  ),  until  my  own 
matter  bade  fair  to  be  settled  under  the  eyes  of  a  crowd. 

Duels  are  now  much  less  the  mode  then  they  were  fifty  or 

[80] 


CHAPTER  EIGHT 


sixty  years  since,  and  I  doubt  if  any  of  my  younger  relatives 
have  been,  or  ever  will  be,  called  upon  to  give  their  proofs; 
in  which  change  of  public  practice  I  unreservedly  concur. 
It  may  therefore  amuse  you  to  learn  from  my  pen  the  sensa- 
tions of  a  youth  upon  the  ground  for  the  first  time. 

I  believe  that  I  was  in  no  degree  sensible  of  fear,  but  experi- 
enced a  certain  dryness  of  the  throat  and  mouth,  and  as  I 
remember,  a  remarkable  clearness  of  vision  and  heightening 
and  intensifying  of  the  faculties,  accompanied  by  a  nervousness 
as  to  how  I  should  comport  myself,  very  similar  to  the  anxieties 
which  assail  a  young  rider  at  the  covert-side  during  the  moments 
before  reynard  breaks.  His  doubts  as  to  the  behaviour  of  his 
horse,  his  misgivings  as  to  the  length  of  his  stirrups  and  the 
tightness  of  his  girths,  are  much  akin  to  what  were  mine,  and, 
just  as  these  anxieties  vanish  when  hounds  have  settled  to  their 
line,  and  his  steed,  bounding  strongly  beneath  him,  has  challeng- 
ed the  first  fence,  so  my  tremors  passed  when  the  colonel, 
having  placed  me  and  retired,  the  major-commandant  ad- 
dressed us:  "Gentlemen,  are  you  ready?  At  the  third  word,  if 
you  please;  ready,  present,  fire!  " 

Through  the  thin  smoke  I  saw  Wallop's  hat  shift  and  fall. 
Simultaneously  I  was  aware  that  one  of  the  bystanders  had 
struck  me  above  the  knee  with  a  stone.  This  was  my  impression, 
and  only  the  growing  red  stain  upon  my  breeches  dispelled  my 
indignation  and  convinced  me  that  I  was  hit. 

Feeling  neither  smart  nor  weakness  I  turned  to  Colonel 
Gunn,  who  was  approaching,  demanding  a  second  exchange. 

"Ye  ha'  chippit  him,  mon!"  he  was  saying,  and,  hearing 
some  coarse  expressions,  I  glanced  at  my  opponent  and  saw 
him  holding  a  discoloured  handkerchief  to  his  head  and  stamp- 
ing with  much  energy. 

The  colonel  watched  him  keenly.  "  'Tis  naething!  ye  fired 
high;  did  I  no  tell  ye?  But,  hello!"  He  beckoned  our  surgeon, 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITT 

and  a  sudden  dimness  overcoming  me,  I  accepted  their  arms 
and  was  laid  upon  my  back  upon  a  cloak. 

When  I  recovered  my  consciousness,  which  I  did  almost 
immediately,  I  found  the  major  waiting  to  make  his  adieux. 
He  used  some  handsome  expressions,  being  pleased  to  com- 
pliment me  upon  my  bearing  under  exceptionally  trying  cir- 
cumstances, hoping  for  my  quick  recovery,  and  expressing  his 
sorrow  that  my  services  were  (  as  he  feared  )  lost  to  the 
regiment. 

I  was  assisted  to  my  coach  and  so  handled  by  a  nervous 
and  inexperienced  surgeon,  that  what  between  loss  of  blood 
from  the  slipping  of  the  ligature,  and  too  copious  doses  of 
stimulant,  I  reached  my  lodging  in  a  very  light-headed  condi- 
tion. I  remember  the  concern  and  anger  of  Hymus,  who  helped 
to  carry  me  to  my  bed.  I  recall  the  tears  of  one  of  the 
maids,  and  later,  the  twinges  incidental  to  the  extraction  of 
the  ball. 

A  confused  movement  of  kettledrums  and  trumpets  com- 
pletes the  impressions  of  the  day;  a  regimental  march  throbbed 
in  my  heavy  head  in  an  interval  of  stupor.  This,  had  I  known 
it,  was  the  farewell  of  the  Fifth,  their  band  playing  them  through 
the  city  on  their  way  to  Liverpool  to  take  their  full  share  in  the 
disasters  and  disgraces  of  the  most  disgraceful  and  cruel 
campaign  in  which  the  British  arms  have  been  engaged  since 
the  surrender  of  Yorktown. 


MEMOIRS  OF  A 

PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

CHAPTER  NINE 
I  CEASE  FROM  BEING  A  MASTER 


I  RETAIN  but  indistinct  recollections  of  the  week 
which  succeeded  the  misadventures  related  in  the  pre- 
vious chapter. 

Evincing  fever,  I  was  thrice  bled:  a  practice  founded  rather 
upon  custom  than  reason,  and  frequently  abused,  as  in  the  case 
of  the  lamentable  demise  of  his  royal  highness  the  late  Duke 
of  Kent,  whom  an  ignorant  practitioner  deprived  of  ninety 
ounces  of  blood  and  his  life  at  the  same  time. 

In  my  own  instance,  a  healthy  system,  suffering  from  nothing 
in  the  world  but  haemorrhage,  was  artificially  subjected  to 
more  upon  a  tradition  attributed  to  Galen,  and  a  treatment  by 
rule-of-thumb  that  any  old  wife  would  have  scouted  to  the  door 
if  allowed  to  exercise  her  native  mother-wit,  but  which  the 
faculty  of  the  day  grovelled  to,  as  savages  worship  a  fetich  the 
more  devoutly  if  their  idol  be  both  ugly  and  useless! 

At  the  week's  end,  being  set  in  a  chair  and  released  from 
my  bandages,  I  bade  adieu  to  my  good  friend  Colonel  Gunn, 
whose  journey  into  the  wilds  of  Scotland,  delayed,  as  I  believe, 
upon  my  account,  might  no  longer  be  postponed. 

He  furnished  me  with  an  address  in  the  county  of  Sutherland, 
in  Armadale,  "Nor-east  o'  the  Reay-country  and  Strath 
Naver,"  as  he  described  it,  but  whilst  professing  his  own  and 

[83] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF 


his  friends'  desire  to  entertain  me  at  any  time  and  for  as  long  as 
my  leisure  could  endure  their  solitudes,  he  delicately  hinted 
that  the  receipt  of  letters  was  almost  unknown  in  that  region, 
and  interdicted  as  well  by  the  delays  due  to  the  absence  of 
service  and  of  high-roads  as  by  its  extreme  expense. 

"Come  unannounced,  my  dear  sir!"  he  exclaimed,  whilst 
holding  my  hand  at  parting,  and  then,  reseating  himself,  must 
needs  apprise  me  of  the  circumstances  of  his  family. 

"The  Gunns"  (  said  he  )  "are  but  a  small  clan,  but  loyal 
gentlemen  to  a  man,  and  (  though  'tis  I  that  say  it  )  nait- 
turally  hospeetable;  in  this  respect  wholly  unlike  some  other 
names,  of  which  I  may  mention"  (  said  he  )  "the  McLeods  of 
Assynt,  a  family  that  lies  under  the  curse  of  God  and  man, 
sir,  for  the  black  deed  o'  theirs  that  doubtless  ye  knaw  of  and 
whilk  I  will  not  defile  my  lips  wi'  parteecularizing.  " 

Like  most  Englishmen  of  that  time,  I  was  both  ignorant  of, 
and  indifferent  to,  the  divisions,  differences  and  histories  of 
the  Scottish  people.  The  genius  of  the  Great  Unknown  has 
since  measurably  corrected  this  apathy,  but  I  must  confess 
myself  still  uncertain  as  to  the  precise  circumstance  adumbrated 
by  my  kind  old  friend.  He  may  have  referred  to  the  betrayal  of 
the  Marquess  of  Montrose  to  his  enemies  by  the  Master  of 
Ardvroik,  a  scandalous  affair  during  the  troubles  of  the  seven- 
teenth century. 

Well,  the  gallant  old  Scots  gentleman  was  gone,  bowing 
himself  out  of  my  chamber  with  a  punctilious  ceremony  which 
embarrassed  whilst  it  gratified  me,  and  which  I  now  suspect 
he  considered  due  as  well  to  my  misfortunes  as  to  my  having 
been  under  fire. 

With  him  departed  the  last  of  my  good  luck.  An  hour  later 
a  letter  was  placed  in  my  hands  bearing  my  father's  frank 
and  seal. 

And  now,  what  shall  I  say  ?  It  would  ill  become  me  to  permit 

[84] 


CHAPTER  EIGHT 


any  unfilial  expressions  to  fall  from  my  pen.  The  experiences 
of  the  many  years  which  have  passed  since  I  broke  that  seal 
have  done  little  for  me  if  they  have  failed  to  give  me  sympathy 
with  the  just  resentment  of  a  bitterly  disappointed  parent. 

Suffice  it  that  my  lord  having  conceived  the  worst  possible 
opinion  of  my  motives  and  conduct,  (  by  whom  misled  I  care 
not  to  suggest,  and  never  knew  for  a  surety,  )  and  naturally 
holding  me  responsible  for  the  frustration  of  the  hopes  he  had 
placed  in  my  military  career,  addressed  me  in  the  severest 
terms,  forbade  me  his  presence  and  his  house,  and,  indeed  — 
(  as  I  interpreted  his  letter  )  —  cast  me  off. 

As  I  was  afterwards  to  learn  my  unfortunate  parent,  when 
he  thus  writ  me,  had  other  distresses  upon  him  than  those 
for  which  he  held  me  responsible.  Judgment  had  just  been 
given  against  him  in  the  suit  with  the  Maskelyne-Fanshawes, 
the  younger  branch  of  our  family,  a  litigation  inherited  from 
his  grandfather's  uncle;  and  not  only  did  extensive  estates  pass 
from  his  hands,  but  he  found  the  residue  of  his  property  charged 
with  accumulated  costs  of  eighty-five  years  of  proceedings  in 
Chancery.  Simultaneously,  since  misfortunes  seldom  come 
singly,  changes  in  the  Ministry  of  which  he  was  a  subordinate 
member,  compelled  his  resignation  of  the  Paymastership  of 
the  Court  of  Wards,  a  sinecure  which  he  had  fondly  supposed 
to  be  a  life  grant. 

Whilst  he  thus  found  himself  straitened  upon  both  sides, 
my  precipitate  acceptance  of  my  enemies'  terms  bade  fair  to 
entail  the  forfeiture  of  the  purchase  money  invested  in  my 
commission,  as  well  as  to  attach  a  blemish  to  my  personal 
character.  These  dangers  he  set  himself  to  avert  by  the  em- 
ployment of  influence  at  the  Horse  Guards,  judging  (  as  he 
wrote  me  ),  that  my  own  evidence,  if  no  better  expressed 
than  the  letter  I  had  sent  him,  would  stand  me  in  no  stead 
either  in  a  court  martial  or  a  court  of  honour,  at  either  of 

[85] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

which   it  would   infallibly   be   traversed   by   the   testimonies 
of  three-fourths  of  the  mess  which  I  had  offended. 

In  conclusion,  I  was  bidden  to  lead  a  private  life,  curtail 
my  expenses  and  await  his  lordship's  pleasure. 

The  reading  of  this  letter  threw  me  into  a  passion  of  misery 
and  indignation.  I  had  not  doubted  for  a  moment  that  my 
father's  sympathy  as  well  as  his  influence  would  be  engaged 
upon  my  side.  That  he  would  rate  me  for  a  fool  was  an  event- 
uality which  had  not  presented  itself  to  my  mind.  That  he 
could  entertain  doubts  of  my  innocence  I  had  not  dreamed  in 
the  delirium  of  fever. 

Judge  then  of  my  mortification  at  finding  my  guilt  or  rectitude 
treated  as  immaterial  and  a  matter  unworthy  of  consideration, 
my  folly  exposed  and  castigated  before  trial,  and  my  future 
taken  out  of  my  hands  and  remitted  to  the  arbitrament  of  a 
back-stairs  cabal. 

The  wound  sustained  by  my  pride  was  of  the  crudest. 
These  blows  when  they  befall  us  in  middle  life  are  rendered 
tolerable  by  the  reflection  that  one  will  live  through  them, 
that  there  are  alleviations,  and  that  nothing  save  the  last 
evil  of  all  is  ever  so  black  or  so  permanent  as  it  seems  at  its 
oncoming.  But  youth,  and  particularly  extreme  youth,  is  un- 
sustained  by  this  stoic  philosophy,  and  having  no  experience 
with  which  to  temper  its  sensations,  suffers  out  of  proportion  to 
its  defeats,  as,  on  the  other  hand,  it  enjoys  beyond  reason  its 
successes. 

Whilst  still  smarting  under  the  strokes  of  parental  censure, 
I  was  waited  upon  by  my  hostess,  who  begged  leave  to  present 
her  compliments  upon  my  recovery  and  —  her  bill.  The  latter 
struck  me,  unversed  in  such  documents  as  I  was,  and  indifferent 
to  expense  as  an  Eton  oppidan  is  expected  to  be,  as  excessive. 
The  scale  of  charges  seemed  framed  more  with  reference  to  my 
father's  title  than  the  accommodation  I  had  enjoyed. 

[86] 


CHAPTER  NINE 


Opening  my  valise  I  sought  my  note-case,  it  was  there, 
indeed,  but  empty. 

I  trust  that  no  one  of  my  young  relatives  may  ever  experience, 
as  I  did,  with  hardly  recovered  bodily  powers,  the  stunning 
sensation  of  finding  himself  robbed. 

My  hostess,  upon  being  recalled,  expressed  surprise  and  pity, 
but  could  offer  no  advice.  My  room,  as  she  said,  had  been  for 
the  past  week  over-run  by  strangers,  persons  over  whom  she  had 
possessed  neither  supervision  nor  control,  and  for  whose  mis- 
deeds, she  thanked  her  Maker,  the  Lord  Mayor  would  never 
think  of  holding  her  responsible. 

If  young  gentlemen  got  into  bad  company,  and  bloodshed, 
and  when  off  their  heads  were  nursed  by  private  soldiers, 
apothecaries,  Scotchmen  and  what  not,  they  must  keep  their 
money  under  lock  and  key,  or  put  up  with  the  consequence. 

Did  I  know  the  numbers  of  the  notes  I  had  lost  ?  I  did  not. 
Nor  how  many  ?  I  was  again  at  fault.  She  dropt  her  eyelids 
in  deprecation  of  a  random  charge  brought  against  a  house 
of  spotless  reputation,  and  leaving  the  very  existence  of  the 
notes  an  open  question  upon  which  she  was  not  called  to  ex- 
press an  opinion,  decorously  crossed  her  hands  and  curtsied 
herself  out  of  the  room. 

What  my  legal  remedy  might  have  been  against  this  poor 
woman  is  now  needless  to  consider;  at  the  time  I  was  ignorant 
that  the  law  holds  the  host  responsible  for  larceny  perpetrated 
beneath  his  roof. 

I  did  not  question  that  my  bill  must  be  paid,  and  sending 
for  Hymus  conferred  with  him  as  to  the  best  quarter  in  which  to 
dispose  of  my  remaining  property,  my  chargers. 

These  being  sold  to  a  neighbouring  job-master,  put  me  in 
funds  for  a  while  and  permitted  me  to  pay  my  debts  and  to 
bestow  myself  in  a  less  expensive  lodging  whilst  awaiting  my 
lord's  pleasure. 

[87] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

I  was  now  for  a  while  at  the  loosest  of  ends,  without  any- 
thing to  do;  neither  horse,  hound,  gun  nor  rod  had  I,  nor  com- 
panion of  my  age  nor  condition.  Expecting  my  release  from 
day  to  day,  and  disgusted  with  a  city  in  which  I  had  experi- 
enced nothing  but  ill-fortune,  I  deferred  presenting  the  letters 
of  recommendation,  which  my  mother  had  sent  me,  until  my 
clothes  were  too  shabby  to  do  credit  to  them,  and  was  thus 
reduced  to  walking  the  streets  and  perusing  the  shop-windows. 

It  was  whilst  thus  promenading,  an  empty  head  and  a  roving 
eye  open  to  any  impression,  bad  or  good,  that  I  sought  shelter 
from  a  pelting  shower  beneath  the  over-hang  of  a  house  upon 
the  south  side  of  the  street  some  way  within  Bootham  Bar: 
Moorhouse  was  the  name  upon  the  lintel,  and  through  the 
little  bull's-eyes  of  the  front  I  could  see  an  array  of  meat  pasties 
and  similar  ware.  Little  did  I  think  how  well  I  was  to  know 
the  simple  place  upon  a  later  day!  At  the  door  stood  a  high- 
wheeled  traveller's  gig  with  a  horse  between  the  shafts  that  I 
had  seen  before  (  not  often  do  I  forget  a  horse,  as  you  may 
know ).  The  creature,  a  fine,  upstanding,  strawberry-roan 
bloodmare,  shook  the  wet  from  her  ears  and  blew  it  from  her 
nostrils  impatiently,  but  stirred  not  a  foot,  obedient  to  the  hand 
of  a  heavily-cloaked  little  figure  upon  the  low  seat  beside  the 
box.  A  tall  baker-man  came  from  the  shop  and  laid  sacks 
over  the  vacant  cushion:  the  child,  fingering  the  wet  reins, 
peered  forth  at  him,  smiling  from  the  depths  of  her  hood,  "O, 
thank  thee,  Heber;  please  tell  father  I  am  keeping  quite  dry." 
The  voice  was  clear  and  sweet,  the  smile  sweeter;  I  had  had 
but  the  briefest  glimpse,  but  now  I  knew  that  this  was  the  horse 
and  this  the  girl-child  whose  face  had  stirred  my  fancy  at 
Tadcaster  a  month  before. 

The  increasing  leanness  of  my  purse  now  began  to  alarm  me. 

Common  sense  suggested  my  discharging  Hymus,  but,  apart 
from  the  repugnance  which  a  gentleman,  who  has  once  been 

[88] 


CHAPTER  NINE 


accustomed  to  the  services  of  a  valet,  feels  to  shaving  himself 
or  dressing  his  hair,  I  found  a  fresh  obstacle:  Hymus  would 
not  hear  of  leaving  me.  He  held  himself  my  bondsman,  not 
only  for  the  twenty  pounds,  but  for  his  very  life,  which  he  was 
fully  persuaded  my  interposition  had  preserved.  In  a  word,  he 
was  not  to  be  got  rid  of. 

This  touching  but  embarrassing  connection  outlasted  my 
means  of  supporting  it.  I  was  at  length  forced  to  confess  to  the 
honest  fellow  the  circumstances  of  my  robbery  and  disown- 
ment  by  my  family,  and  that  finally,  I  was  at  my  last  guinea, 
which  I  pressed  him  to  accept. 

The  scene  of  this  interview  was  the  small  apartment  I  rented 
in  Skeldergate  beside  Bootham  Bar,  over  against  the  house 
once  occupied  by  the  notorious  Captain  Guido  Fawkes  of 
infamous  memory. 

The  good  fellow  heard  me  out  in  silence,  choked,  saluted 
and  stood  to  attention  with  a  face  of  rock,  but  with  the  water 
forming  in  his  eyes.  When  at  length  he  realized  the  necessities 
of  my  position  he  replaced  the  guinea  upon  the  table  between 
us  and  left  the  room  in  discomposure. 

I  was  mightily  astonished,  and  even  touched.  Never  in  my 
life  had  I  concerned  myself  with  the  feelings  or  behaviour  of 
common  people,  save  so  far  as  these  ministered  to  my  con- 
venience. A  groom  was  a  good  groom,  a  maid  was  a  good  maid 
if  she  ordered  my  room,  or  he  curried  my  horse  to  my  liking. 
What  groom  and  maid  did  with  themselves  when  out  of  my 
sight,  how  they  thought,  felt,  hoped  or  despaired  were  specula- 
tions hitherto  as  outside  of  my  cognizance  as  if  grooms  and 
maids  had  been  inarticulate  animals  with  whom  converse  is 
denied  us. 

Having  never  conferred  with  any  upon  the  matter,  I  had 
always  supposed  that  the  common  people  in  their  turn  regarded 
us  from  the  level  proper  to  their  service,  and  were  attached 

[89) 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

to  us  by  the  expectation  of  wages  and  rewards,  which  hope 
being  withdrawn,  the  common  person  withdrew  also  to  form 
a  more  promising  attachment. 

That  a  common  person  should  refuse  money  —  say  a  guinea 
—  amazed  me.  (  Yet  this  same  Hymus  had  already  spared  my 
purse  a  matter  of  five  pounds,  a  feat  in  honesty  which  I  had 
remarked  with  wonder  at  the  time,  but  presently  forgot,  or 
set  down  to  policy  and  the  hope  of  establishing  a  character 
for  exceptional  probity.) 

In  a  word,  I  was  compacted  of  the  selfishness  of  youth  and 
of  my  order;  neither  worse  nor  better  than  other  idle  young 
gentlemen  of  my  breeding,  and  I  do  verily  believe  that  in  all 
my  life  I  had  scarcely  a  single  unselfish  action  to  my  credit. 
What  I  had  given  I  had  given  from  my  superfluities,  and  had 
been  coxcomb  enough  to  experience  some  motions  of  gratula- 
tion  at  the  exuberant  thanks  returned  me  for  cast  clothing 
and  loose  silver. 

Nor,  on  the  other  hand,  was  I  sensible  of  being  the  recipient 
of  especial  gifts  or  favours.  That  my  parents  should  hitherto 
have  maintained  me  in  affluence  seemed  part  of  the  scheme 
of  things.  Their  sudden  denial  of  support  appeared  an  inex- 
plicable caprice  to  which  I  bowed  in  silent  resentment;  deter- 
mined that  they  should  find  in  me  a  pride  as  unyielding  as 
their  own. 

The  week  after  this  scene  passed  drearily  enough.  I  had 
no  longer  the  means  of  amusing  myself  at  the  small  gambling- 
house  which  I  had  found  in  Stonegate,  where  I  had  lost  a  large 
part  of  what  my  horses  had  realized.  I  had  also  the  sense  to 
curtail  my  expense  in  the  matter  of  morning  draughts,  dinner 
port  and  nightcaps.  I  believed  myself  at  the  time  to  be  a 
moderate  fellow  where  the  bottle  was  concerned,  but  am  now 
of  the  opinion  that  I  was  well  on  the  road  to  be  a  toper  had  not 
tkis  change  in  my  fortunes  broke  me  of  the  habit. 

[90] 


CHAPrER  NINE 


Daily  I  called  at  the  post  for  the  letter  which  was  still  de- 
layed. Daily  my  guinea  dwindled,  and  at  every  hour  of  the 
day  I  missed  my  good  Hymus.  Judge  then  my  feelings  when 
having  paid  my  Saturday's  reckoning  with  almost  my  last 
half-crown,  I  was  told  that  he  wanted  to  see  me.  He  had 
taken  service  with  the  job-master  who  had  bought  my  charges 
two  months  before,  and  being  without  encumbrance,  an 
excellent  horseman  and  of  good  appearance,  had  been  put 
into  livery  as  coachman  to  a  jobbed  pair.  This  and  more  he 
told  me  with  a  note  of  gratulation  which  jarred  upon  my  mood. 
The  selfish  obtuseness  of  the  fellow  in  flaunting  his  good  luck 
in  the  face  of  my  necessities  came  near  to  angering  me.  I 
forced  myself  to  applaud  when  I  would  rather  have  sworn 
or  sat  silent,  and  drummed  the  table  with  my  fingers  im- 
patient for  him  to  be  gone. 

But,  what  was  this  ?  The  man  was  lugging  out  a  canvas 
bag,  and,  with  grins  of  delight,  was  laying  before  me  the  half 
of  his  first  week's  earnings!  He  was  still  my  servant,  it  ap- 
peared, and  asked  nothing  better  than  to  be  allowed  to  support 
me!  In  vain  I  reiterated  my  refusals,  in  vain  pushed  the  money 
from  me  flushing  and  stammering;  he  reached  the  door  and 
fled,  still  grinning,  leaving  me  humiliated  to  the  neighbourhood 
of  tears. 

This  was  my  lowest;  lower  I  may  have  sunk  in  the  eye  of 
the  wayfarer  who  passed  me  upon  the  highway  or  in  the  field, 
but  to  stand  there  in  broadcloth  and  linen,  sound  in  mind  and 
body,  beholden  to  a  common  trooper  for  a  handful  of  coppers  — 
God  Almighty!  could  I  be  a  Fanshawe  ? 

That  night  before  I  slept,  my  resolution  was  taken.  Twice 
I  had  written  to  my  father  and  thrice  to  my  mother,  at  good 
length  and  with  infinite  pains,  but  had  received  no  reply.  I 
had  still  the  last  of  my  father's  franks  for  a  final  appeal,  could 
I  have  brought  my  stomach  to  it. 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

But  I  could  stoop  no  lower.  A  rebel,  my  heart  was  hot  within 
me  at  the  harshness  and  injustice  with  which  I  conceived 
myself  to  have  been  treated  by  her,  the  indulgent  and  doting 
parent,  the  only  woman  I  had  ever  loved,  and  to  whom  I  had 
never  before  appealed  in  vain. 

My  brother,  Lord  Bramford,  it  did  not  occur  to  me  to  ap- 
proach. My  senior  by  four  years,  his  position  as  heir  expectant 
to  the  title  and  estates  had  always  set  him  upon  an  eminence 
above  me  in  the  eyes  of  the  household,  as  well  as  in  his  own. 
To  our  father  he  was  everything;  I  nothing:  his  allowance  and 
equipage  had  for  years  been  upon  a  separate  scale.  He  had  sat 
for  my  mother's  pocket-borough  of  Alderley  upon  his  coming 
of  age;  had  run  horses,  contracted  debts,  was  a  member  of  five 
clubs,  and  had  been  presented  at  Court,  had  gone  the  round  of 
a  dozen  country  seats,  and  now,  after  the  manner  of  the  young 
bloods  of  his  age,  kept  chambers  in  town,  entertained  his  friends 
and  moved  in  a  world  aloof  from  my  rustic  stupidities.  Nor  was 
he  endeared  to  me  by  his  one  honourable  trait,  an  obstinate  but 
hopeless  suit  to  our  neighbour,  the  Marquise  de  la  Rochemesnil, 
a  lady  some  years  his  senior. 

Doubtless  I  was  jealous  of  him;  he  coolly  ignored  me.  We 
seldom  met,  and  had  I  supposed  him  in  possession  of  spare 
means  (  and  I  supposed  nothing  so  improbable)  I  did  not 
imagine  for  a  moment  that  he  would  consider  his  brother  a 
proper  object  for  his  charity. 

Once  again  I  had  myself,  and  myself  only,  to  depend  upon; 
myself  this  time  divested  of  the  adventitious  aids  of  blood, 
military  rank  or  ready  money. 

This  time  I  was  reduced  to  a  pair  of  bare  hands,  as  I  told 
myself;  and  spent  much  of  the  following  day,  a  Sunday,  in  ex- 
cellent resolutions  in  the  Minster  transept. 


[92] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A 


CHAPTER  TEN 
AND  BECOME  A  MAN 


ON  the  Monday,  having  sold  or  pawned  every  un- 
necessary article  I  possessed,  even  to  my  case  of 
pistols,  I  dressed  myself  in  my  stoutest  and  plainest, 
rolled  a  change  of  linen  in  my  cloak,  filled  my  pockets  with 
bread  and  cheese,  paid  my  score  and  took  the  road  to  seek 
my  fortune. 

In  short,  my  cogitations  upon  the  coach  after  leaving  Hunt- 
ingdon had  recurred  to  me,  and  I  would  employ  myself  about 
horses  if  such  employment  were  to  be  had.  But  not  in  the 
streets  of  a  city  through  which  I  had  pranced  as  a  cavalier; 
that  humiliation  I  spared  myself. 

Before  leaving  the  ancient  city  I  made  the  last  of  my 
many  applications  at  the  post-office.  With  what  recurrent 
sicknesses  of  heart  had  my  previous  visits  been  attended! 
The  faint  hopes  with  which  I  had  been  wont  to  watch  the 
postmaster  a-sorting  his  budget  of  stale  letters  had  ever  been 
followed  by  the  anger  of  disappointed  love.  Not  a  line  from 
my  mother!  Now,  at  the  last  there  came  a  rift  in  my  grey 
sky.  The  man  frowned  reflectively,  wetted  his  thumb  and 
passed  me  a  letter  through  the  wicket.  My  breath  thickened: 
it  bore  my  father's  frank,  but  the  address  was  neither  in 
my  lord's  nor  my  mother's  hands.  I  broke  seal  impatiently 

[93] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

without  a  glance  at  the  impress;  it  was  from  my  friend  the 
marquise. 

"My  DEAR  MR.  GEORGE,  'What  is  this  that  I  hear?'" 
Thus  she  began,  and  it  was  plain  that  the  lady  had 
heard  little  good  of  me.  I  scented  reproach,  and  stiffened. 
Mixed  with  delicate  upbraiding  was  an  allusion  to  some 
trouble  of  which  the  writer  evidently  supposed  me  to  be 
already  apprised.  I  was  bidden  to  lighten  my  father's  burden 
and  pished  restively,  supposing  the  trouble  to  be  my  own 
misfortune.  In  short  I  took  it  all  awry.  I  now  believe  that  the 
letter  was  not  only  wisely  but  kindly  conceived,  if  something 
too  elder-sisterly  in  tone.  It  closed  with  encouragement,  but 
Lucille  would  have  me  make  my  submission;  I  must  write. 
Had  I  not  written  ?  —  yes!  and  written!  I  made  no  allow- 
ances for  mail  robberies,  the  delays  and  mischances  of  the 
road,  carelessness  of  servants  or  absence  of  my  parents  from 
home;  no,  nor  perceived,  as  I  might  have  done  from  the  date 
of  the  letter  I  held  in  my  hand,  that  it  had  Iain  in  the  post- 
master's pigeon-hole  for  near  two  months,  and  antedated 
three  of  my  five  appeals  for  justice.  Had  the  marquise  been  at 
my  side  in  bodily  presence  I  doubt  not  but  that  she  might  have 
bent  me  to  anything  she  willed,  such  was  her  power  of  persuasion 
and  command.  Being  two  hundred  miles  away  she  failed. 
Resenting  her  interference,  I  tore  the  letter  in  bitterness,  and 
shaking  the  dust  of  York  from  my  feet,  started  upon  my  travels, 
and,  as  all  the  routes  were  the  same  to  me,  the  evening  of  my 
second  day  upon  the  road  found  me  with  the  towers  of  Ouseby 
Abbey  in  view. 

It  was  a  Wednesday  in  March  and  some  time  after  sunset 
when  I  came  in  sight  of  the  last  milestone,  and  having  been 
for  two  days  disappointed  of  adventures,  saw  possibilities  in 
the  erratic  behaviour  of  a  pony-cart  ahead  of  me.  The  vehicle 
being  of  a  dusty  yellow  and  hung  about  with  two  or  three 

[94] 


CHAPTER  TEN 


wicker  baskets,  declared  itself  the  property  of  a  mealman,  but 
the  zigzag  course  preferred  by  its  driver  seemed  more  suited 
to  a  jovial  tavern-keeper.  The  brute  between  the  shafts  was 
capable  of  reaching  home  had  the  beast  between  the  baskets 
been  sober  enough  to  permit  him.  As  things  stood,  or  rather 
oscillated,  the  ditch  bottom  rather  than  the  stable  bade  fair 
to  be  their  night's  resting  place. 

From  this  I  saved  them  by  catching  at  the  bit  and  leading 
the  nag  despite  the  jerking  and  swearing  of  the  man.  Whilst 
achieving  so  much,  I  failed  in  preventing  collision  with  the 
mile  stone  against  which  we  brought  up  with  a  shock  that  threw 
the  driver  over  his  wheel  upon  his  head,  and  detached  one  of 
the  baskets,  which  upon  reaching  the  ground  discharged  itself 
of  some  two  pound's  worth  of  heavy  pence  and  thin  silver. 

The  fellow  lay  still  enough,  and  the  nag  being  equally  passive, 
I  hastily  gathered  the  coin  into  my  handkerchief,  knotting  the 
corners  for  safety  and  bestowing  it  in  the  cart.  This  done  I 
offered  help  to  the  man.  He  was  wholly  uninjured,  having 
fallen,  as  the  drunk  so  commonly  fall,  with  inexplicable  im- 
munity, and  seemed,  if  possible,  more  comically  mazed  than 
before  his  tumble.  Who  he  was,  for  whom  he  drove,  and 
whither  he  would  go,  had  escaped  his  memory.  Being  incapable 
of  regaining  his  seat  he  accepted  my  arm,  and  I  leading  the 
horse,  in  this  order  we  reached  the  little  town  at  nightfall. 

Here  we  were  accosted  by  an  anxious  pair,  a  tall  woman  and 
a  short  man,  evidently  scouting  and  expectant.  Upon  us  they 
pounced  with  a  "Gracious  goodness!  what  an  object!"  and 
glanced  from  my  companion  to  myself  and  back  again,  and  at 
one  another  with  silent  suspicions  ere  the  woman  found  a 
severe  tongue. 

"Well,  Obed,  ye've  had  enough  this  time,  anyhow!"  To 
which  the  toper  replied  with  placid  contentment, 

"Right  y'are,  Missus,  I  have;  thank  the  Lord!" 

[95] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

"An*  where's  your  money  ?"  asked  the  man,  with  a  shake  in 
his  voice,  addressing  his  servant  but  regarding  me  sidelong. 

"Are  ye  Mr.  Jabez  Medcalf?"  I  asked,  for  this  name  was 
upon  the  shaft. 

"Why,  yes;  and  I  say,  young  man,  d'ye  happen  to  know 
what  this  man  o'  mine  has  done  wi'  his  money?" 

I  made  over  the  contents  of  the  basket,  reclaiming  my 
handkerchief  and  stating  where  and  how  I  had  recovered  the 
coin  from  the  highway.  Little  passed  until  we  reached  a  shop, 
where,  the  cash  being  told  and  found  correct,  the  couple  were 
at  leisure  to  breathe  freely. 

Obed,  hopelessly  bemussed,  was  handed  over  to  a  thin,  dis- 
couraged wife,  who  accepted  his  condition  without  surprise. 

"Take  him  away,  dame;  'tis  the  last  time.  We're  done  wi' 
'im,"  said  the  mistress,  and  then  turning  to  me  held  a  light 
to  my  face,  and  after  some  steady  and  rather  embarrassing 
scrutiny,  made  herself  the  spokeswoman  for  the  firm. 

Was  I  tramping  for  work  ?  I  was.  Was  I  used  to  horses  ? 
Few  more.  Did  I  understand  the  trade  of  a  mealman  ?  There  I 
was  wanting,  and  but  for  the  seriousness  of  my  case  and  my 
importunate  stomach,  could  have  laughed  outright  at  the 
absurdity  of  the  question  propounded  to  an  oppidan,  but 
lately  a  carabineer,  and  still,  by  the  grace  of  God,  the  son  of  an 
earl. 

I  must  suppose  that  my  face  spoke  for  me;  my  manifest 
honesty  and  willingness,  and  perhaps  the  absence  of  any  com- 
petitor, stood  me  in  stead,  and  I  was  there  and  then  installed 
as  driver,  shopman,  porter,  and  handy-man  within  doors  and 
without  for  my  board,  lodging,  and  some  few  shillings  the  week. 

My  service  began  forthwith;  there  stood  a  cob  to  be  un- 
harnessed, rubbed  down,  baited  and  bedded.  There,  too,  a  cart 
to  be  brushed  and  housed,  harness  to  be  hung  and  baskets  to 
be  bestowed.  To  it  I  went,  stripping  to  the  first  work  to  which, 


CHAPTER  TEN 


as  I  think,  I  had  ever  set  my  hand,  and  only  when  all  was  done 
was  I  bidden  wash  myself  at  a  bucket  and  join  my  mistress  at 
the  supper-board.  I  was  sharp-set,  but  a  long  and  solemn  grace 
intervened,  such  a  grace  as  I  had  never  imagined,  nor  did  this 
complete  the  religious  exercise  of  the  household,  the  meal  con- 
cluding with  some  ten  minutes  of  family  worship,  during  which 
I  fell  asleep  across  my  stool  from  bodily  weariness. 

Here,  and  in  this  unforeseen  manner  I  became  an  inhabitant 
of  the  small  town  which  I  have  called  Ouseby  (  for  I  desire 
not  to  wound  the  susceptibilities  of  survivors,  if  such  there  be, 
of  those  whom  I  knew  in  other  years  and  in  other  circum- 
stances). The  little  town  comes  back  to  me  as  I  write,  its 
serpentine  ground-plan,  its  ancient  house-fronts  and  shops 
with  half-doors,  approached,  some  by  steps  up  from  the  cob- 
bles of  the  street,  some  by  steps  down,  few  indeed  upon  the 
level;  the  half-ruinous  priory  church,  the  tanyards  and  bark- 
sheds,  the  long  garden-strips  and  pightles  of  pasture  at  the 
backs.  These  I  recall,  and  the  hollow  water-meadow  where  once, 
it  is  said,  the  Ouse  ran,  the  Dane's  Ditch  and  other  reliques 
of  old  times.  But  it  is  of  its  people  I  am  to  speak,  and  of  their 
various  ways  of  dealing  with  one  another  and  with  myself,  a 
stranger,  during  my  months  of  sojourn. 


[  97 


MEMOIRS  OF  A 

PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

CHAPTER    ELEVEN 
I  COME    UNDER   CONVICTION  OF  SIN 


HEPHZIBAH  and  Jabez  Medcalf  were  a  childless 
couple  in  latish  middle  life,  reputed  substantial 
tradespeople  and  owners  of  house-property;  she  — 
for  I  must  ever  think  first  of  her  when  thinking  of  that  house- 
hold—  was  the  elder  of  the  two  by  ten  years,  tall  and  spare  in 
person,  with  loops  of  black  hair  escaping  from  her  cap  to  shade 
rosy  cheek-bones.  Her  forehead  was  lofty  and  narrow,  her 
eyebrows  arched  blackly  above  large,  dark,  tearful  eyes.  Her 
bony  aquiline  nose  was  of  a  frosty  pink  and  overhung  wide 
and  flexible  lips  frequently  moving  in  silent  self-communion 
or  prayer.  Her  hands  were  long  and  cold  and  never  idle.  She 
looked  what  she  was,  a  woman  of  a  highly-strung  temperament, 
capable  of  extremes,  and  always  capable  of  persuading  herself 
and  weaker  natures  of  the  righteousness  of  whatever  she 
strongly  willed. 

Her  good  man  was  of  a  commoner  stamp,  short  and  broad, 
round-shouldered  and  pigeon-breasted;  his  big,  dark  head 
joined  to  his  body  without  much  visible  neck  gave  small 
indication  of  the  energy  that  possessed  him,  for  indeed  he  was 
always  doing,  and  his  liquorish,  humorous  eye  was  all  over 
his  shelves  and  warehouse.  He  was  fond  of  hard  work,  a 
mighty  toiler;  I  never  met  his  equal  in  the  handling  and  carry- 

[98] 


CHAPTER  ELEVEN 


ing  of  heavy  sackloads  of  meal  and  corn,  an  art  for  which  his 
compact  and  powerful  figure  was  adapted.  In  these  and  such- 
like secondary  matters  he  busily  employed  himself  and  me, 
relinguishing  the  direction  of  his  business  to  the  silent,  execu- 
tive woman  who  owned  him.  She  it  was  who  scented  a  coming 
turn  in  the  market  and  bought  or  refrained  from  buying  stock, 
and  it  was  she  who  admitted  or  evicted  the  tenants  of  their 
cottages,  oversaw  repairs  and  drew  agreements. 

Both  were  Methodists  and  stood  among  the  leading  people 
of  the  Ouseby  connection,  but  with  a  difference,  for  whilst 
Jabez  was  a  local  preacher,  Hephzibah  was  class-leader  and 
second  minister  of  the  circuit,  having  been  some  years  pre- 
viously ordained  by  the  imposition  of  the  hands  of  the  great 
and  good  John  Wesley  himself,  the  last  of  the  few  women  whose 
vocation  he  thus  publickly  recognized. 

During  the  three  months  which  I  spent  in  the  service  and 
beneath  the  roof  of  these  worthy  people,  I  had  opportunities 
for  learning  much  more  than  this  of  their  histories,  habits  and 
beliefs,  for  both  wife  and  husband  conceived  an  extraordinary 
interest  in  my  spiritual  condition,  and  such  solicitude  for  my 
conversion  as  was  at  first  embarrassing,  but  presently 
held  me  as  with  an  enchantment  which  I  was  wholly  un- 
able to  break.  Nor  will  this  seem  impossible  to  any  who 
considers  the  thousands  of  persons,  comprising  every  rank 
of  society  and  degree  of  education,  who  were  lifted  as  it 
were  beyond  themselves  by  the  first  fervours  of  the  Methodist 
movement. 

To  begin  with,  my  treatment  by  my  employers  was  kindness 
itself,  and  I  was  of  late  unused  to  kindness,  and  submitted  the 
more  readily  to  catechising  since  it  came  from  the  lips  of  a 
motherly  woman  who  daily  attended  to  my  bodily  comforts 
and  replenished  my  wardrobe  by  stealth. 

I  was  by  way  of  learning  much  that  was  new  to  me  of  myself. 

[99] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITT 

That  I  was  in  a  state  of  nature  was  plainly  seen,  and  I  saw 
no  reason  to  deny  so  evident  a  proposition. 

That  a  state  of  nature  is  likewise  a  state  of  sin  was  a 
corollary  I  could  accept  in  general  terms.  But  the  reasoning 
went  further,  and  presently  became  alarmingly  personal  in  its 
application. 

Thus,  my  state  of  sin  was  a  state  of  danger,  since  the 
wages  of  sin  is  death.  I  found  myself  a  vessel  of  wrath; 
under  a  curse;  a  stranger  to  and  an  enemy  of  my  maker; 
trifling  upon  the  brink  of  eternity  without  assurance,  war- 
rant or  claim,  and  with  only  the  pit  of  the  damned  for  my 
portion  in  the  world  to  come. 

The  zeal,  the  power  and  the  feeling  with  which  these  people, 
and  especially  my  mistress,  wrought  with  me,  made  no  small 
impression.  With  her  as  expositor  I  read  the  Book  of  the 
Revelation  for  the  first  time,  and  felt  my  inwards  moved  by  its 
drear  terrors.  When  words  failed  they  fell  back  upon  the  re- 
sources of  music. 

"Listen,  George!"  she  would  say,  and  then,  "Jabez,  let 
us  sing  Bourne  and  Sanders,  fifteen, — 

"  Why  do  I  wander  from  my  God 

Whose  greatness  none  can  tell? 
Can  I  endure  His  vengeful  rod, 
And  bear  the  pains  of  bell? 

"Eternal  darkness  I  must  see, 
And  hope  will  never  come; 
But  fiends  will  my  companions  be, 
And  hell  will  be  my  home" 

or  it  might  be  Mr.  Charles  Wesley's  masterpiece,  — 

"  Shall  I,  amidst  a  ghastly  band, 

Dragged  to  the  judgment  seat, 
Far  on  the  left  with  horror  stand, 
My  fearful  doom  to  meet?" 
[100] 


CHAPTER  ELEVEN 


Thus  exhorted,  thus  prayed  with  and  even  wept  over,  I  was 
shaken  out  of  the  careless  good  conceit  of  myself  and  blind 
confidence  in  a  rosy  future  so  common  in  youth,  and  fell  into 
so  depressed  and  fearful  a  state  that  I  dreaded  to  descend  a 
ladder,  and  fell  asleep  in  anticipation  of  awakening  in  the 
place  of  torment. 

I  conceived  —  upon  what  grounds  I  know  not  —  that  I  was 
guilty  of  mortal  sin,  that  my  case  was  gone  already  before- 
hand to  judgment,  and  I  condemned  to  an  eternity  of  fire  and 
brimstone. 

That  I  should  remain  for  one  hour  in  this  pitiable  illusion 
was  very  far  from  the  wish  of  my  master  and  mistress,  who 
held  out  to  me  day  by  day  the  plan  of  salvation,  pointing  me  to 
the  Strait  Gate  and  the  Open  Door,  and  urging  me  to  accept 
the  sacrifice  of  Christ,  come  from  under  the  law  and  shout 
Hallelujah! 

Of  their  own  salvation,  present  and  ultimate,  they  were  as 
assured  as  they  were  of  their  existence.  No  doubt  seemed  ever 
to  approach  either.  If  (  as  at  times  befell  )  my  master  slipt, 
for  he  was  by  nature  a  sociable  creature,  'twas  but  a  fall  from 
grace,  amended  as  soon  as  admitted,  and  he  was  once  again 
in  a  state  of  sonship,  accepted,  washed  and  pardoned. 

You  are  to  understand  that  these  searchings  of  heart,  fears, 
hopes  and  agonies  were  as  new  to  me  as  some  strange  disease 
for  which  I  knew  neither  name,  palliation,  nor  remedy,  and  to 
which  I  fell  a  victim  ere  I  was  aware  of  my  danger. 

I  suppose  that  a  youth  bred  in  a  society  which  discussed 
serious  topics  to  some  purpose  would  have  had  a  mind  suffi- 
ciently furnished  for  the  comparison  of  doctrine. 

Of  this  I  was  wholly  incapable,  lacking  the  elements  for 
forming  a  judgment;  for,  to  begin,  the  Bible  which  I  distantly 
venerated  I  had  never  willingly  opened.  To  doubt  or  belittle 
this  holy  (  but  neglected  )  volume  would  have  seemed  to 

[MI] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

me  akin  to  blasphemy;  yet  it  was  this  book,  now  newly  displayed 
to  me,  that,  like  some  august  and  terrible  arsenal,  supplied  the 
texts  which  smote  upon  and  shrivelled  my  spirit. 

My  breeding  stood  me  in  small  stead.  The  childish  bed- 
time prayers,  learned  by  rote,  I  had  disused  since  entering 
Eton,  where,  as  I  think,  we  were  as  arrant  young  pagans  as 
any  in  this  world,  and  our  tutors  no  better. 

The  Vicar  of  Bramford,  a  Mr.  Bellasis,  a  pluralist  with 
some  three  livings  beside,  was  a  college  friend  of  my  father's 
and,  as  I  suppose,  neither  better  nor  worse  than  others  of  his 
class  at  that  day.  He  was  at  least  a  gentleman,  with  a  gentle- 
man's tastes  and  habits  ;  his  weight  permitted  him  to  see  the 
death  of  more  foxes  than  any  man  in  the  country  side.  Al- 
though never  known  to  have  laid  a  guinea  upon  a  race,  he 
was  held  to  be  the  shrewdest  judge  of  a  running-horse  in  East 
Suffolk,  and  had  repeatedly  foretold  the  future  success  of 
unpromising  colts. 

He  could  tie  a  fly,  dub  a  cock,  was  an  excellent  farrier,  and 
played  sound  whist  with  perfect  temper. 

The  man  was  kindly,  and,  according  to  his  means,  open- 
handed  if  peremptory  to  his  poor,  and  was  trusted  by  my 
parents  as  their  almoner. 

All  this  I  record  in  his  favour  —  more  I  cannot.  Possibly 
as  a  result  of  a  breeding  like  my  own,  he  was  as  destitute 
of  religion  as  his  horse.  His  brief  sermons,  read  stumblingly 
from  borrowed  manuscripts,  were  barely  audible  in  the  deep 
hall  pew  behind  the  stone  chancel-screen  wherein  I  played 
cat's-cradle  whilst  my  parents  slumbered. 

Upon  none  of  his  parishioners,  so  far  as  I  am  aware,  did 
he  feel  it  incumbent  to  impress  the  need  of  a  personal  faith, 
which  I  can  only  suppose  he  had  never  experienced. 

As  to  the  household  which  I  knew  best,  my  honoured 
parents  conceived  their  duty  towards  their  Maker  to  consist 

[102] 


CHAPTER  ELEVEN 


in  a  correct  behaviour,  open  hospitalities,  adequate  charities, 
and  an  appearance  at  one  service  on  the  Sunday  when  residence 
and  weather  permitted. 

This  politely  incurious  but  deferential  attitude  towards  the 
Unseen  was  the  tone  of  good  society,  falling  as  far  below  the 
hearty  piety  of  the  good  old  King  as  it  was  superior  to  the  ex- 
cesses of  the  Jacobins  his  enemies. 

That  my  parents  were  blameworthy,  or  even  remiss,  I  will 
not  admit:  they,  and  their  spiritual  adviser,  lived  according 
to  their  lights,  and  after  the  custom  of  their  order.  Their  Maker, 
not  their  descendant,  is  their  Judge.  May  He  who  created  them 
mercifully  weigh  the  uses  made  of  the  opportunities  He  gave. 

Let  me  get  back  to  my  own  case. 

We  have  all  of  us  had  experience  of  the  painful  effects  of 
severe  toil  upon  unused  muscles;  somewhat  similar  are  the 
consequences  of  thought,  meditation,  reasonings  and  prayer 
upon  a  mind  totally  unversed  in  these  exercises.  At  this  time 
I  was  suffering  both  bodily  and  spiritually  from  over-strained 
faculties,  and  was  so  far  fortunate  that  I  could  play  off  one 
disease  against  another. 

By  day  I  was  able  in  some  degree  to  detach  my  mind  from 
the  cloud  which  hung  upon  it  by  giving  myself  entirely  to  my 
labour.  Although  utterly  unskilled  in  the  aptitudes  of  my 
employment,  unable  even  to  tie  the  mouth  of  a  sack  with  the 
proper  knot,  or  to  strike  off  a  bushel  with  accuracy,  yet  driven 
by  my  terrors  as  by  whips,  I  so  toiled  as  to  excite  first  the 
admiration  and  then  the  fears  of  my  employers. 

When  out  with  the  cart  I  would  make  a  friend  and  a  con- 
fidant of  the  horse,  singing,  conversing,  or  rather  monologising 
to  this  dumb  companion  by  the  hour,  the  better  to  escape  the 
two  stern-faced  angels  who  attended  me,  the  one  forever 
showing  me  the  doom  of  the  sinner,  the  other,  softer  faced, 
bidding  me  make  one  more  dutiful  appeal  to  my  mother. 


MEMOIRS  OF  A 

PERSON  OF  QUALITY 


CHAPTER  TWELVE 
VISITORS  AND  RESIDENTS 


TWICE  it  happened,  on  days  whilst  the  cob  was  resting 
from  a  journey,  and  I  about  the  place,  that  I  was 
bidden  to  stand  by  the  horse  of  the  miller  paying 
his  monthly  call  for  orders  and  money.  This  Mr.  Ellwood  was 
one  of  the  people  called  Quakers,  a  man  widely  known  and  as 
widely  respected;  a  diligent  person  in  his  business  who  covered 
much  country  upon  his  rounds,  driving  himself  in  a  high- 
wheeled  gig  drawn  by  a  blood  mare  better  at  going  than  stand- 
ing. Hence,  whilst  he  was  in  the  shop  with  my  mistress,  I 
would  be  at  his  mare's  head,  rubbing  her  velvet  muzzle  and 
looking  into  her  great  wild  eye  with  its  moving,  deep-set 
spark  of  red  fire,  for  I  ever  loved  a  horse.  Upon  both  occa- 
sions there  was  something  in  the  gig  still  better  worth  the 
looking  at,  for  his  daughter,  a  young  girl  (  a  young  lady  I 
may  surely  call  her,  and  why  not  ? )  accompanied  her 
father  upon  his  journey.  She  used  the  lower  seat  beside  his 
raised  box,  wrapped  in  her  rug  and  tippet,  her  little  fresh, 
grave  face  framed  in  a  small  poke  bonnet  (  as  at  Tadcaster, 
and  again  at  York). 

This  little  face  drew  me  as  a  far-off  sparkle  of  light  draws  the 
eye  in  the  dusk.  It  was  not  full-cheeked  and  bouncing  like 
some  young  girls'  faces,  nor  square-chinned,  nor  peaked,  but, 

[104] 


CHAPTER  TWELVE 


as  I  told  myself,  shaped  exact  like  a  pea-fowl's  egg,  precisely 
as  it  should  be,  perfect  in  modelling  and  line,  tint  and  texture, 
just  a  fine,  clear  pallour,  touched  to  an  inward  pink  by  the  wind. 

So  much  I  dared  to  see,  peering  through  the  mare's  mane 
as  she  shook  her  head  and  shifted  feet. 

But  beside  these  general  excellencies  I  learned  to  know  her 
small  red  lips,  which  she  kept  so  closely  pressed  the  one  upon 
the  other,  and  her  great  frank  grey  eyes. 

Always  she  leaned  softly  as  in  thought,  or  it  might  be  some- 
what sleepy  with  the  wash  of  fresh  air,  or  wearied,  for  they 
had  driven  far. 

Twice,  I  say,  I  rendered  the  child  this  distant  service, 
standing  bare-armed  as  I  had  left  my  work.  "Service," 
I  had  written,  but  such  service  is  near  kin  to  worship, 
and,  as  I  stood  thus  seeing,  but,  as  I  thought,  myself 
unseen,  or  unremarked,  I  studied  every  pure  lineament 
of  that  little  face,  and  found  an  interest  therein  that  was  new 
to  my  life. 

There  was  no  maid  in  Ouseby,  were  she  Churchwoman  or 
Methodist,  at  whom  I  had  looked  thrice.  Good  girls  there 
must  have  been,  fine  women,  wholesome  and  desirable,  I 
doubt  not,  but  at  the  time  I  had  no  eyes  for  such.  Nor  had  I 
left  my  heart  in  Suffolk.  I  was  of  the  kind  that  furnish  late 
and  my  love  passages  were  all  before  me;  such  boyish  flames 
as  had  flickered  out  in  my  teens  having  been  all  for  women 
far  beyond  my  years,  mature  and  majestic  spinsters  whom  I 
had  eyed  shyly  from  safe  distances.  Nor  can  I  think  that  my 
six  feet  odd  of  shambling  uncouthness,  blushes  and  tied  tongue, 
were  framed  to  captivate  the  sex. 

No,  I  knew  not  the  flavour  or  relish  of  love,  and  feeling 
forforn  in  myself,  cast  down  and  ill-placed,  and  needing  some- 
thing better  and  finer  than  I  could  find  within  me,  I  thought 
it  no  sin  or  unworthiness  to  set  that  little  face,  so  innocently 

[105] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

sweet,  in  a  chamber  of  my  heart  by  itself,  there  to  visit  in  silence 
for  private  delectation  and  refreshment. 

"I  know  not  so  much  as  her  name,"  said  I,  "nor  am  I  ever 
like  to  know.  Nor  does  she  know  mine,  nor  look  upon  me  save 
as  upon  any  other  chaw-bacon  that  stands  to  her  father's  horse 
at  his  houses  of  call.  I  harm  her  not.  She  helps  me.  I  feel 
the  goodness  and  holiness  of  this  young  child.  God  bless  her: 
would  I  were  like  her.  If,  as  seems  my  doom,  I  miss  Heaven, 
I  will  carry  the  remembrance  of  her  little  face  to  the  pit  of 
hell,  and  think  of  it  and  her  through  all  eternity. " 

Then  her  father  would  come  forth,  thank  me  with  the  cor- 
dial gravity  that  was  his  natural  manner,  and  I  would  return  to 
my  toil.  And  this  was  my  fourth  sight  of  her. 

You  will  be  wondering  what  I  did  with  myself  in  so  quiet 
a  place  as  "Crooked  Ouseby."  Quiet  it  certainly  was:  no 
stage  passed  within  five  miles  of  it,  nor  did  any  inhabitant, 
save  the  rector,  take  the  News.  The  weekly  arrival  of  this 
link  with  the  outer  world  —  regarded  in  ordinary  times  as  a 
fashionable  extravagance  —  was  in  those  days  of  unrest 
eagerly  watched  for,  and  the  great  man  found  his  morning  walk 
waylaid  by  curious  neighbours  whose  ignorance  it  pleased  him 
gravely  to  play  upon.  As  thus:  "News?  Master  Piper; 
Why,  surely  here  are  strange  news,  the  Dutch  have  taken 
Holland!" 

"Never,  surely,  rector.  Well,  I  s'pose  we's  bahn  to 
turn  'em  oot  o;  thot!" 

That  I  was  dull  I  will  not  admit,  for  my  hours  of  labour 
beginning  before  sunrise  (  during  the  spring  ),  and  ending 
only  when  the  work  was  done,  left  me  little  time  upon  my  hands. 

Upon  the  Saturday  night,  like  other  young  men  of  my  age, 
I  was  used  to  repair  to  my  public  house,  The  Angel,  an  inn 
which  I  chose  not  for  any  merit  of  cleanliness,  or  for  the  good- 
ness of  its  ale,  but  because  its  sign  recalled  a  house  near  to  our 

[106] 


CHAPTER  TWELVE 


park  gates  at  Bramford  ( which  you    too  will  remember ). 

Here  I  was  used  to  sit  out  the  evening  with  pipe  and  pot, 
and  had  grown  too  fond  of  both  before  I  was  'ware  of  my  de- 
clension. Two  circumstances  ( under  Providence )  brought 
me  to  my  senses,  and  the  recital  of  the  former  may  interest 
my  young  relatives  as  displaying  the  manners  of  the  place 
and  time. 

In  Ouseby  were  fourteen  taverns  and  inns,  of  which  perhaps 
half  were  of  standing  to  support  a  drinking  club.  It  was  from 
the  staunchest  topers  of  the  strongest  clubs  in  Ouseby  that  a 
certain  eleven  was  picked  to  encounter  a  like  number  of  sea- 
soned toss-pots  of  Selby,  Goole,  Tadcaster,  or  Church  Fenton. 

The  way  of  these  bouts  was  as  follows:  a  letter  of  challenge 
being  sent  and  accepted,  the  contest  was  held  upon  neutral 
ground,  in  the  presence  of  sworn  umpires  and  a  referee.  Every 
man  of  each  eleven  had  to  take  off  his  half-pint  of  the  strong 
ale,  or  stingo,  used  in  Yorkshire,  at  the  word  of  command,  un- 
til one  by  one,  the  contestants  slid  from  their  seats  to  the  floor, 
and  the  last  surviving  tippler  claimed  the  victory  and  the  stakes 
for  his  club. 

These  matches  were  laid  and  wagered  upon  for  a  month  in 
advance,  and  watched  with  the  keenest  interest,  and  reported 
of  with  zest,  though  sufficiently  beastly  exhibitions  as  you 
may  suppose,  and  as  I  had  occasion  to  observe. 

As  was  but  natural,  these  doughty  fellows,  though  men 
of  great  size,  the  goodliest  colours  and  noble  proportions, 
were  very  uncertain  lives,  and  the  turney  champion  of  the 
pewter  was  apt  to  drop  suddenly  in  the  midst  of  his  jollity. 

It  was  upon  the  eve  of  one  such  contest,  I  forget  which,  but 
think  it  was  between  Ouseby  and  Thorne,  that  a  stalwart  man 
of  our  eleven  fell  with  an  apoplexy  and  never  spoke  more, 
though  he  lingered  for  some  weeks.  It  was  needful  to  fill  his 
place  at  short  notice,  and  my  master's  name  being  canvassed 

[107] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

was  at  once  rejected  for  its  bearer's  temperance  ( which,  God 
knows,  was  not  the  most  shining  of  the  good  man's  merits), 
and  that  of  Mr.  Beamish,  landlord  of  the  Fighting  Cocks, 
substituted  and  accepted,  yet  not  without  wagging  of  heads: 
"  We're  jealous  a  hain't  man  enow  for  f  job;  as  nobbut  an  eleven 
gallon  man." 

These  words  produced  such  an  effect  upon  me  that  I  drank 
no  more  that  night,  proffering  the  half  of  my  pot  to  a  goat 
that  thrust  her  nose  into  the  tavern  door.  The  innocent  creature 
took  it  off  to  the  last  drain,  and  was  presently  rolling,  an  object 
of  mirth  to  my  company  and  to  myself  (the  more  shame  to  me). 

Yet,  when  the  impression  had  subsided,  and  I  the  next  week 
in  the  same  place  offered  that  goat  more  liquor,  the  wise  animal 
shook  her  head  and  would  none  of  it. 

"My  God!"  cried  I,  struck  to  the  heart,  "have  I  less  sense 
than  Thy  dumb  creature  ? "  and  so,  rising  and  paying  my  score,  I 
went  thither  never  again  and  found  myself  (  against  all  advice 
and  expectation  ),  presently  the  better  man  in  body  and  mind, 
and  still  better  for  the  struggle  which  it  cost  me  to  make  good 
my  resolution. 

By  this  too  I  gained  some  time  for  a  book,  and  read  more 
than  I  had  done  in  all  my  life  hitherto. 

The  book-room  at  Bramford  held  a  collection  of  tall  folios 
behind  locked  glass  which  I  had  never  seen  opened.  The 
boxes  of  novels  which  reached  my  mother  from  her  London 
library  had  no  attractions  for  me.  In  summer  there  was  always 
something  to  be  done  without  doors,  whilst  in  the  winter  after  a 
three  hours'  run  from  Bullen  Bushes  to  Hadleigh  or  Little 
Stoneham,  I  had  felt  more  minded  to  sleep  in  my  chair  than 
weep  over  the  sorrows  of  Mr.  Richardson's  ladies.  "  Tom  Jones  " 
had  repelled  me  by  his  coarseness,  nor  had  I  patience  with  the 
saintly  fool  Allworthy  for  listening  to  a  dull  brute  like  Thwack- 
um  and  disowning  an  honest  lad. 

[108] 


CHAPTER  TWELVE 


How  I  longed  on  these  sombre  Sundays  at  Ouseby  for  one 
of  the  books  I  had  neglected!  The  newly- awakened  intelligence 
within  me  clamoured  for  its  rights  and  craved  for  food.  My 
mistress's  shelf  supported  nothing  lighter  than  "  Law's  Serious 
Call,"  "Alleyne's  Alarm  to  the  Unconverted,"  and  some  ser- 
mons by  the  Rev.  John  Wesley.  Dr.  Isaac  Watts'  "Scripture 
History  "  I  had  read  from  cover  to  cover. 

It  was  during  a  between-sermons  visit  paid  to  the 
Circuit  Leader,  a  Mr.  Simeon  Baxter,  that  I  made  the 
acquaintance  of  John  Bunyan,  beginning  with  "  Mr.  Badman," 
and  working  through  "  The  Siege  of  Mansoul "  to  "  The  Pil- 
grim's Progress  "  —  (a  book  which  I  left  until  last  from  some 
distaste  of  the  title). 

Marking  my  pleasure  in  his  bookshelves  their  owner  had 
me  the  more  frequently  to  his  table,  and  would  still  further 
have  befriended  me  with  sound  advice  had  I  confided  to  him 
my  case.  That  he  divined  my  birth  I  suspected  from  ex- 
pressions he  let  fall  whilst  most  delicately  refraining  from 
pressing  himself  unsolicited  upon  the  privacy  of  misfortune. 

The  humanity  of  this  excellent  man  to  me,  a  stranger,  in 
poverty  and  spiritual  distress,  I  shall  always  recall  with  feelings 
of  gratitude.  He  was  elderly,  in  person  undersized  and  short- 
sighted; his  manner  and  accent  though  differing  from  that  of 
the  circle  in  which  I  had  moved,  were  not  markedly  provincial, 
still  less  were  they  vulgar.  Despite  the  slenderness  of  his  ward- 
robe he  seemed  to  me  even  in  outward  appearance  a  gentleman, 
or  at  least  gentlemanlike,  whilst  in  all  that  lay  beneath  externals, 
in  unworldliness,  gentleness,  abstinence,  goodness,  and  patience 
he  excelled,  and  despite  the  terrifying  nature  of  his  sermons  I 
was  drawn  to  him. 

Of  these  sermons  I  must  shortly  speak,  for  the  man  was 
celebrated  in  his  way  beyond  the  circuit  he  then  adminis- 
tered, and  became  before  his  death  one  of  the  most 

[109] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

powerful  preachers  in  his  connexion.  Although  personally 
almost  insignificant  and  of  such  a  retiring  disposition  that 
no  stranger  passing  him  in  the  street  looked  twice  upon 
him,  yet,  once  got  into  his  pulpit,  or,  still  better,  upon  a 
wagon  beside  a  village  green,  he  was  transfigured. 

When  preaching  in  the  open  air  he  commonly  supported 
both  hands  upon  the  handle  of  a  large  umbrella,  and  whilst 
keeping  this  fixed,  and  as  it  were  riding  at  anchor  to  it,  dis- 
played the  most  surprising  versatility  of  action  and  gesture. 
How  have  I  seen  him  in  the  violence  of  his  spiritual  exercise 
crouching  behind,  or  rather  clinging  to,  this  support  even 
as  a  drowning  seaman  clings  to  his  mast!  Have  I  not  trem- 
bled when  he  leapt  forth  and  leaned  over  and  across  its  handle 
until  only  the  operations  of  some  law  of  nature  with  which 
I  am  unacquainted  prevented  his  pitching  from  his  platform 
upon  his  head!  And  again,  I  have  gasped  while  he  revolved 
round  this  pivot  as  a  cockchafer  around  its  pin!  Nor  whatever 
his  contortions,  gyrations,  and  gesticulations  did  his  tre- 
mendous voice  spare  for  one  moment  its  denunciations, 
warnings,  pleadings  and  persuasions. 

His  fervours  were  truly  terrific.  The  veins  of  his  temples 
were  wont  to  swell  and  the  sweat  to  roll  from  his  brows. 

Nor  was  the  assiduity  of  the  man  less  than  his  zeal;  he 
walked  far  in  all  weathers,  and  would  lodge  with  the  lowliest 
when  upon  his  journeys. 

That  such  an  one  should  have  drawn  in  the  careless  and 
hardened  to  his  flock  is  no  wonder,  nor  that  his  example 
should  have  been  felt  to  reflect  upon  the  sloth  of  certain 
beneficed  clergy  in  the  neighbourhood.  Said  one,  "I  never 
go  to  see  a  sick  parishioner  but  I  meet  that  confounded 
ranter  coming  down  the  stairs!" 

The  style  of  his  address,  its  personality  and  tension  was 
new  to  the  pulpit  of  that  day,  when  the  discourses  of  even 

[no] 


CHAPTER  TWELVE 


the  best  and  most  earnest  incumbents  were  delivered  with 
such  restraint  as  to  carry  no  adequate  conviction  of  the  im- 
portance of  the  message. 

Such  was  Mr.  Simeon  Baxter,  and,  as  I  have  said,  I  came 
near  to  loving  him,  so  infectious  is  self-denying  earnestness, 
so  alluring  is  goodness;  and  had  I  continued  longer  in  his 
neighbourhood  and  come,  as  seemed  probable,  increasingly 
under  his  personal  influence,  I  can  hardly  doubt  that  his 
character  would  eventually  have  outweighed  or  commended 
to  me  his  creed,  and  I  been  drawn  within  the  fold  of  which 
he  was  the  meek  and  indefatigable  shepherd. 

How  strongly  did  I  desire  to  make  him  some  return  for  his 
hospitalities,  and  for  how  long  did  my  desires  remain  fruitless ! 
That  I  was  able  to  render  this  excellent  person  some  slight 
service  is  the  brightest  spot  in  the  overcast  landscape  of  my 
life  at  Ouseby. 


[in] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A 

PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

CHAPTER  THIRTEEN 
ON  THE  BAITING  OF  BULLS  AND  METHODISTS 


YOU  must  know  that  apart  from  the  hiring-fair  and 
usual  Church  festivals  old  custom  yearly  preserved 
to  us  in  this  town  three  days  of  riot.  Of  these  Royal 
Oak  Day  and  the  Fifth  of  November  commemorated  historical 
deliverances,  whilst  Dean's  or  Dane's  Day  was  held  by  the 
learned  to  refer  to  some  defeat  or  expulsion  of  the  Northmen. 

All  three  were  mere  saturnalia,  days  of  license,  on  which 
aldermen  and  watch  kept  within  and  magistrates  winked 
hard,  whilst  unpopular  characters  and  causes  trembled. 

The  anniversary  of  King  Charles's  escape  in  the  Boscobel 
Oak  dawned  (  or  rather  of  his  birthday,  for  seldom  did  a 
May  oak  bear  foliage  thick  enough  to  screen  a  man  from 
vigilant  eyes  ).  The  usual  sports  commenced.  A  football  was 
kicked  from  end  to  end  of  the  town  by  rival  wards,  rebounding 
from  tiled  roofs  and  shuttered  windows.  This  was  tame  enough; 
the  bull-baiting  followed.  A  popular  alderman  and  butcher 
found  the  bull;  not  the  town  only,  but  the  whole  country-side 
provided  the  dogs;  farmers  for  miles  around  bringing  their 
"tykes"  to  the  proof. 

That  this  should  have  been  permitted  in  the  thoroughfare 
may  seem  strange,  but  the  middle  of  the  High  Street  widened 
into  the  likeness  of  a  rude  circus,  and  was  from  of  old  known  as 

fun] 


CHAPTER  THIRTEEN 


"the  Bull  Ring,"  and  here  upon  the  cobbles,  in  the  heart  of  the 
town,  and  beneath  the  windows  of  its  principal  burgesses,  a 
disgusting  spectacle  was  visible  for  some  hours. 

From  the  window  of  my  loft  I  could  recognize  my  master's 
customers,  yeomen  and  graziers,  passing  uptown  with  their 
dogs  to  join  the  close-packed  mob. 

"There  goes  Maude  of  Catersby,"  said  I,  "and  that  will  be 
Cennick  of  Stawell,  and  yonder  are  Robert  and  Edward  Wood- 
head,  the  horse-dealers  of  Mutford,  and  that  —  who  is  that  ? 
Surely  I  know  that  man!"  for  moving  with  them  was  the  same 
slight  dark  fellow,  whose  visage  once  seen  I  had  never  for- 
gotten, the  successful  fighter  at  the  Barn  Inn. 

He  walked  slowly,  his  keen  face  shaded  by  the  peak  of  his 
cap,  his  hands  in  the  pockets  of  his  long  brown  riding-coat, 
in  no  haste  to  see  the  baiting,  but  his  eyes  moved  right  and 
left  in  his  head  marking  everyone  who  passed  him.  I  lost  him 
at  the  turning  into  Back  Street,  and  it  is  probable  he  lost  the 
sport.  For  a  Peterborough  maltster  to  be  in  Ouseby  struck  me 
as  singular,  but  it  was  no  concern  of  mine  and  no  sooner 
remarked  than  forgotten. 

The  death  of  the  bull  was  always  a  critical  moment  with  us. 
When  the  beast  could  fight  no  longer  he  was  pole-axed  and 
his  beef  distributed  or  fought  for,  and  it  was  then,  when  bloods 
were  at  their  hottest,  that  the  elements  of  disorder  were  most 
to  be  feared. 

It  was  commonly  at  this  juncture  that  a  cry  would  be  raised 
and  the  rabbling  of  some  unpopular  person,  or  the  defacement 
of  some  public  monument  would  begin. 

One  year  it  had  been  the  town  lock-up  and  stocks  that  had  been 
burned,  the  next  it  was  a  Baptist  meeting-house  that  suffered. 

From  my  post  of  observation  I  was  aware  that  the  bull  was 
down,  and  some  half-hour  later  it  was  plain  that  the  moment 
had  arrived  and  that  mischief  was  afoot. 

[113! 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

In  our  larger  cities  the  poor  and  the  rich,  the  tradesmen 
and  the  men  of  law  and  of  medicine,  have  separate  quarters; 
but  in  small  and  ancient  boroughs  houses  of  the  most  various 
ages  and  characters  are  ranked  cheek  by  jowl  upon  the  cause- 
way. Here  a  pretentious  brick  and  stone  mansion  of  Dutch 
William's  time,  flanked  by  coach-gates  and  guarded  by  posts 
and  chains,  is  huddled  up  to  on  either  side  by  a  thatched 
cottage  and  a  chandler's  shop.  It  is  thus  at  Ouseby  where 
the  rectory  faces  meaner  houses  across  the  Bull  Ring,  in  one 
of  which  dwelt  Mr.  Simeon  Baxter,  and  it  seemed  to  me  that 
the  movement  of  the  crowd  was  in  the  direction  of  his  door. 

This  idea  came  to  me  with  a  sort  of  clap,  and  before  I  knew 
what  I  would  be  at  I  was  down  my  ladder  and  through  the 
house.  My  mistress's  voice  sounded  from  the  back-shop,  calling 
on  me  to  stop,  but  for  once  I  paid  no  heed  to  it,  and  rather 
raced  than  ran  to  the  Bull  Ring,  where  I  found  my  fears  justified. 

The  crowd  had  packed  itself  before  Mr.  Baxter's  house, 
men  and  big  lads,  drunk  or  merely  merry,  bawling  the  more 
part  knew  not  for  what,  nor  why.  But  in  the  heart  of  the  crowd 
was  a  knot  of  "Church  and  King  Men,"  or  True  Blues,  in  whose 
minds  Popery,  Methodism  and  the  Jacobins  passed  for  different 
forms  of  the  enemy  which  they  held  themselves  bound  to 
extirpate.  These  with  bemuddled  unanimity  were  crying 
"Down  wi'  the  Pope;  down  wi'  Methody;  no  wooden  shoes!" 
whilst  making  ready  the  heavy  chopping  block,  bloody  from 
recent  use,  to  serve  as  a  battering-ram  for  breaking  the  door 
within  which  I  had  spent  such  pleasant  hours. 

At  an  upper  window  I  could  see  Mr.  Baxter  making  trial 
of  speech  with  the  crowd  who  replied  with  ribaldry  and  hands- 
ful  of  garbage  which  fell  back  upon  their  own  heads  and  those 
of  others.  Behind  him  I  had  a  glimpse  of  the  white  faces  of 
his  wife  and  invalid  daughter  vainly  attempting  to  withdraw 
him  from  danger. 


CHAPTER  THIRTEEN 


What  I  intended  I  knew  not,  no  plan  having  presented  itself 
to  my  mind  whilst  running,  but  by  dint  of  pushing  I  reached 
the  neighbourhood  of  those  who  held  the  block  just  as  these 
had  it  poised  for  a  rush,  and,  catching  the  biggest  from  behind 
by  the  ears,  wrung  him  loose  from  his  hold  and  flung  him  over 
my  knee. 

There  followed  a  sudden  cessation  of  sound  that  came  near 
to  being  a  silence.  Those  in  the  middle  throng  gaped  upon  me, 
those  upon  the  outskirts,  divining  that  the  unforeseen  had 
happened,  held  their  tongues  and  climbed  upon  posts  and 
door-steps  to  see. 

"A  fight!  A  fight!"  was  the  cry.  The  fellow  whom  I  had 
thrown,  a  big  slaughterman,  as  it  happened,  and  a  man  of 
his  hands,  turned  upon  me  with  a  grin,  and  perceiving  that 
my  action  was  no  accident,  and  that  I  was  minded  to  abide  by 
its  consequences,  nodded  assent  and  backed  into  the  crowd 
peeling,  and  bidding  form  a  ring  clear  of  the  fallen  block. 

"Tis  Medcalf's  porter!  The  Methody  carter!  Good  forever! 
Did  ye  ever  see  the  loike  ?  Well  done,  young  'un,  thou'llt  git 
tha  bellyful,  niver  fear,  but  keep  tha  hands  oop  whoile  tha 
canst  an'  show  us  sport  first!" 

"And  if  I  do,  ye'll  let  Mr.  Baxter's  house  be  ?"  I  stipulated. 

"Yes."  "No."  "Baxter  be  damned;  he's  neyther  here 
nor  there."  "We'll  see  hoo  tha  frames  first," —  such  was  the 
best  assurance  I  could  extract. 

Bob  Woodhead,  gazing  upon  me  with  a  new  kind  of  brother- 
liness,  gave  me  a  knee.  His  partner  Ted  ran  for  sponge  and 
bucket.  The  vicar's  churchwarden  himself,  a  timber  merchant, 
was  one  of  my  antagonist's  seconds,  elbowing  aside  a  com- 
petitor for  the  honour  with  these  words:  "Well,  7  say  d — n  all 
dissenters,  I'm  for  the  b — y  Church"  a  sentiment  which  the 
majority  found  wholly  to  its  mind. 

My  antagonist  had  by  this  pulled  his  shirt  over   his  head 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

and  was  got  upon  guard,  a  formidable  figure,  the  little  pig's  eyes 
in  his  red  visage  a-twinkle  with  the  glee  of  battle,  his  great 
shoulders  and  hairy  chest  crouched  behind  a  pair  of  huge  fists 
held  level  with  his  chin. 

"Set  to  tha  denner,  Jock,  'tis  sheep's  head!"  guffawed  one. 

" — and  pluck!"  capped  my  second.  The  crowd  laughed 
good-naturedly. 

Of  the  ten  minutes  or  so  that  followed  I  remember  but 
little.  The  ring  was  small  and  ill-kept  by  reason  of  the  pressure 
of  the  crowd,  which  defects  were  against  me,  for  I  was  by  far 
the  lighter  and  weaker  man. 

I  have  also  an  impression  that  the  cobbles  were  bad  footing 
and  hard  falling,  and  that  I  fell  more  than  once  or  twice. 

I  was  doubtless  in  the  pink  of  condition,  and  inflamed  with 
a  very  fever  of  determination  to  play  out  time  and  give  the 
mob  all  the  sport  it  wanted. 

But  my  friend  the  butcher  was  by  a  good  two  stones  the 
better  man,  and  not  so  drunk  but  that  he  could  fight  stoutly 
and  well,  and  when  he  got  one  of  his  blows  home  it  told. 

I  dodged  and  feinted,  ducked  and  countered,  and  put  in 
practice  every  art  I  knew  or  had  ever  seen  used,  and  I  can  yet 
experience  a  twinge  of  contentment  at  the  thought  that  I  fairly 
grassed  my  man  twice;  once  at  wrestling,  and  again  with  a 
risky  right-hander  upon  the  mark. 

The  shouting  was  not  all  oneway."  Well  hit!  young  Pogram!" 
rang  out  like  the  cracking  of  whips  when  I  got  one  in. 

But  I  was  getting  blind  and  weak  and  knew  that  the  next 
time  we  closed  he  would  knock  me  out,  for  I  was  no  match  for 
him  at  the  half-arm  rally. 

It  was  in  one  of  the  lucid  intervals  of  this  mad  business  that  I 
saw  to  my  grief  the  house-door  open  and  Mr.  Baxter  himself  upon 
the  steps  with  raised  hands  and  such  an  expression  of  indignant 
pity  upon  his  countenance  as  hurt  me  more  than  my  bruises. 

[116] 


CHAPTER  THIRTEEN 


For  a  moment  that  side  of  the  ring  turned  to  him,  but  nearer 
and  more  to  dread  was  the  outside  circle  whose  view  of  the 
fighting  had  been  unsatisfying.  These  ruffians  seized  him;  he 
was  drawn  this  way  and  that,  and  next  moment  would  have 
been  thrown  down,  when  a  tall  and  portly  gentleman  in  black 
stept  through  the  crowd  crying  imperatively  but  calmly, 
"Stop  that,  my  men,  if  you  please!" 

And  stop  they  did,  for  this  was  the  rector  and  justice  of 
the  peace,  almoner  of  parish  doles,  warden  of  the  almshouses, 
a  man  of  very  strong  will  and  no  small  sense  of  what  was  due 
to  himself  and  his  office,  whose  patronage  went  far  to  make  a 
tradesman's  custom,  and  whose  good  word  was  a  character  to 
a  labouring  man. 

Those  who  held  the  minister  dropt  their  hands.  The  poor 
little  man  got  his  breath  and  essayed  to  speak,  but  the  rector 
seemed  unaware  of  his  presence,  and  turning  his  shoulder  to 
him,  ran  a  keen,  commanding  eye  over  the  crowd  (  which  was 
already  loosening  ),  clearing  his  throat  for  speech. 

"And  now,  my  lads,"  said  he,  "we  have  had  enough  of 
this.  We  won't  spoil  our  merry-making.  .  .  .  'Tis  time  we  were 
all  getting  along  home.  I  am  glad  to  see  you  all;  and  so  I  wish 
you  a  good  day!" 

And  with  that  he  lifted  the  glass  that  hung  from  his  finger 
and  let  his  eye  travel  deliberately  across  the  bank  of  packed 
faces.  The  last  of  the  mob  broke  up  with  horse-laughs,  the 
great  man  watching  with  grim  satisfaction  the  salutary  effect 
of  his  presence.  It  was  as  when  the  doctor  himself  steps 
sedately  into  a  ring  of  lower  boys  engaged  in  planning  some 
waggery. 

"How  is  your  man?"  This  was  to  my  bottle-holder,  and 
surprised  me,  for  I  had  heard  it  said  that  the  rector  had  never 
recognized  the  existence  of  a  dissenter. 

I  had  regained  my  wind  and  got  to  my  feet.  He  looked  me 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 


squarely  between  the  eyes  for  a  moment.  "Be  at  my  door  at 
nine  o'clock  to-morrow!"  said  he,  and  without  waiting  for  a 
reply,  stepped  grandly  across  the  stones  to  his  house,  looking 
the  fine  gentleman  he  was. 

"Eh,  an' what'll  thot  mean?  But  niver  mind,  laad,  'towd 
rector  '11  lat  tha  down  easy.  A  loikes  foine  to  see  a  good 
set-to;  and  dang  ma  sowl,  if  a  thowt  ye  Methodies  could  ha 
put  oop  a  laad  thot  'ud  stan'  to  oor  Jock  for  foive  minutes,  lat 
alone  ten!" 

This  seemed  the  general  voice;  the  moment  the  rector's 
door  closed  my  friend  the  butcher  lurched  up  grinning,  as 
usual,  to  offer  me  his  hand.  I  had  felt  it  already,  but  not  in 
this  shape.  He,  too,  seemed  in  high  good  humour  with  himself 
and  me  and  the  world  at  large,  despite  the  bruises  he  was 
caressing. 

"Dommed  if  tha'  hain't  a  game  yoong  cockbird!  'Twor  a 
fair  pleasure!"  was  as  his  deliverance.  In  short  I  was  escorted  to 
Medcalf's  shop  by  a  following  of  new-made  friends,  and  for  the 
moment  dissent  was  almost  popular  in  Ouseby;  it  was  able  to 
show  sport. 

The  news  had  outrun  my  return.  The  shop-door  was  already 
unbarred;  and  I  was  received  almost  literally  into  the  open  arms 
of  Mistress  Medcalf,  redder  as  to  the  nose  and  cheek-bones 
and  more  tearful  as  to  the  eyes  than  ever,  shaken  with  hardly 
repressed  indignation,  still  heaving  with  a  passion  of  womanly 
fears,  and  ready  to  expend  upon  me  such  maternal  tenderness 
as  I  had  not  thought  her  capable  of  shewing. 

I  needed  it.  I  was  rather  badly  knocked  about,  and  the 
getting  home,  a  bare  furlong,  had  well-nigh  taken  the  last  ounce 
out  of  me. 

My  seconds  were  dismissed  with  the  grave  courtesy  due  to 
good  customers  who  have  given  offence.  She  longed  to  rate 
them  soundly.  The  door  locked  and  the  curtain  drawn,  a  dust- 

[118] 


CHAPTER  THIRTEEN 


sheet  laid  in  the  kitchen,  her  husband  was  sent  packing  for  the 
hog-tub,  beside  which,  I,  kneeling  stript  to  the  waist,  was 
washed,  larded,  dipt,  plaistered  and  bound  up  with  vinegar 
and  brown  paper  for  the  bruises,  lily-leaves  and  brandy  for  the 
cuts. 

Despite  my  smarts  and  a  singing  head  I  could  have  laughed 
at  the  poor  figure  my  master  seemed  to  make  in  his  wife's  eyes. 

"Out  o'  my  way!  no,  not  that;  the  sponge,  I  said,  didn't  I  ? 
There,  don't  shove  it  down  my  throat!  .  .  .  To  go  and  let  a 
young  lad  meet  gret,  bletherin',  sweerin',  bull-faaced  Jock 
Spence!  an'  you,  a  grown  man,  an'  a  strong  man,  skulkin' 
be'ind  shutters  whilst  poor,  dear  Mr.  Baxter  —  What's  that 
ye're  sayin'  ?  (  The  towel,  if  you  please,  the  soft  one  )  — 
'  The  servant  of  the  Lord  shall  not  strive  ? '  Oh,  I  know  my  Bible 
as  well  as  here  and  there  some,  and,  mark  me,  Medcalf,  I'll 
not  have  Scripture  throw'd  at  my  head  by  any  man,  Medcalf, 
not  if  he  was  ten  times  my  husband.  And  just  answer  me  this, 
if  you  please,  What  did  the  Almighty  go  and  make  ye  as  strong 
as  a  bullock  for,  if  'twasn't  to  defend  the  weak  ?  Tell  me  that, 
Medcalf!  Fight  ?  ye  could  fight  fast  enough  before  ye  found 
salvation.  Ah!  I  mind  ye  with  a  coal-black  eye  when  you  was 
courtin'!  .  .  .  An'  him  nobbut  a  child,  in  a  figure!  a  David 
against  that  gret  hulkin'  Philistine!  I  said  a  child;  don't  answer 
me,  Medcalf,  look  at  his  airms!  not  the  half  o'  yourn!  Now,  not 
another  word,  if  you  please.  He  can't  abear  your  noise,  I'm 
sure;  and  I'm  sick  and  silly  at  the  sight  o'  ye,  may  God  for- 
give me!  Now  up  with  that  tub  and  empt  it  in  the  yard,  and 
quick  about  it!  And  out  ye  gets  and  down  to  the  Cocks  for 
I'm  going  to  quiet  the  house  for  George." 

In  fact  she  forbad  my  attempting  the  ladder  to  my  loft, 
shaken  as  I  was,  and  made  me  a  "  bice  "  of  chairs  in  the  kitchen, 
where,  filled  with  all  I  could  eat  and  drink,  I  slept  like  a  top 
and  awoke  little  the  worse  save  in  looks. 


MEMOIRS   OF  A 

PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

CHAPTER    FOURTEEN 
I    AM    TEMPTED    BY    THE    DEVIL 


BY  the  time  appointed  I  was  at  the  rectory  back  door 
and  was,  as  it  seemed,  expected;  the  maid,  without 
a  word,  shewing  me  through  to  an  apartment  in  the 
front,  which  I  judged  to  be  the  great  man's  justice-room  or 
study,  where  I  was  bidden  to  wait. 

The  door  standing  ajar  I  could  not  but  hear  all  that 
passed  in  the  broad  echoing  hall  paved  with  quarries  of  parti- 
coloured marble  and  giving  to  the  street  by  the  main  door  of 
the  house.  This  being  presently  opened  in  response  to  a  knock, 
I  heard  the  voice  of  Mr.  Baxter  requesting  an  interview  with 
the  rector,  and  the  retreating  steps  of  the  maid,  leaving  the 
caller,  as  I  supposed,  either  upon  the  mat  or  in  the  porch. 

Anon  some  inner  door  opened  and  closed  upon  a  burst  of 
ladies' laughter,  and  stately  steps  passed  up  the  hall  and  paused. 

"What  is  your  pleasure?" 

"I  have  ventured  to  call,  sir  —  "  the  voice  quavered  slightly. 
I  am  persuaded  that  this  was  the  first  time  the  minister  had 
passed  that  threshold.  The  social  gulf  between  the  speakers 
would,  God  knows,  be  sufficiently  deep  to-day;  it  was  then 
unfathomable.  The  Earl  of  Mornington  had  not  long  before 
been  granted  letters  patent  to  change  his  surname  to  escape 
the  taint  of  his  famous  but  unfashionable  cousins  the  Wesleys. 

[120] 


CHAPTER  FOURTEEN 


"I  have  ventured  to  call,  sir — "  Mr.  Baxter  repeated 
with  a  nervous  cough :  he  could  face  a  drunken  mob  bent  upon 
doing  him  a  mischief,  but  when  he  would  have  exchanged 
civilities  with  his  august  neighbour  his  words  stuck  in  his 
throat!  This  little  man  who  showed  the  courage  of  a  lion  when 
he  heard  the  Divine  call  was  oppressed  by  the  timidities  of  the 
hare  when  prosecuting  his  private  affairs. 

"I  have  ventured —  " 

"So  you  have  said  already,  my  man,  and  so  I  perceive," 
interposed  the  rector,  dryly. 

"  —  to  thank  you,  sir,  and  to  tender  you  the  heartfelt 
acknowledgments  of  my  family  and  myself,  of  your  humane 
and  —  and  Christian  interposition  yesterday,  when  we  were  at 
the  mercy  of  —  of  —  of  —  " 

Mr.  Baxter  hesitated,  finding,  perhaps,  an  unexpected  diffi- 
culty in  describing  those  who  had  wantonly  attacked  his 
dwelling  in  terms  which  would  seem  inoffensive  to  their  spiritual 
chief.  His  assailants  had  included  at  least  one  churchwarden. 

The  rector  gave  him  no  assistance,  and  the  sentence  ended 
lamely. 

There  was  a  silence  of  several  seconds'  duration.  The  word 
lay  with  the  rector,  who  was  in  no  haste  to  end  a  situation 
which  he  plainly  relished.  He  was  for  playing  his  fish  before 
tossing  him  back  to  the  water.  My  cheek  burned  at  the  tone  in 
which  he  began. 

"So  far  as  I  am  able  to  gather  the  sense  of  your  not  especially 
coherent  remarks,  I  conceive  that  you  are  under  a  mistake. 
You  have  nothing  to  thank  me  for.  The  ladies  of  my  household 
found  the  noise  disturbing.  I  requested  the  good  people  to  go 
away.  If,  —  er,  at  any  time  ( which  seems  unlikely )  you 
should  have  anything  to  say  to  me,  I  should  prefer  your  coming 
to  the  service  door.  I  wish  you  a  good  day. " 

The  street  door  closed.  Through  the  wicker  window  blind 

[121] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUAL1TT 

I  saw  my  friend  descend  the  steps  with  the  mien  of  a  mortified 
man.  From  somewhere  at  hand  rang  a  chime  of  ladies'  merriment. 

"Oh,  excellent!  You  sent  the  creature  to  the  right-about 
finely!  But,  oh,  what  fibs  we  told!  what  fibs!  You  were  as  set 
as  mama  or  I  that  the  poor  thing's  house  should  not  be 
rabbled!" 

"No  need  to  tell  him  so,  my  dear;  but,  pardon  me,  I  am 
waited  for. " 

He  swung  stately  into  the  room,  the  smile  still  puckering 
the  angles  of  his  eyes,  a  tall  and  portly  gentleman,  wearing  a 
silken  kerchief  turban-wise  in  place  of  a  wig;  his  flowered 
morning-gown  open  from  throat  to  hem,  showing  admirable 
shapes  of  handsome  limbs  in  black  breeches  and  stockings. 

Seeing  me  where  I  stood  he  exclaimed,  "Ha!  How  do  you 
do?"  extending  a  small  white  hand  which,  from  old  wont,  I 
took  in  spite  of  myself. 

"I  thought  so!"  said  he  with  sudden  gravity.  "And  now, 
sir,  who  may  you  be  ?" 

"Mr.  Medcalf's  man,"  I  began. 

"Fiddlesticks!"  interrupted  the  rector,  "I  asked  who,  and 
you  tell  me  what;  I  have  eyes  like  another. " 

"Pardon  me,  I  hardly  take  you,"  I  stammered. 

"Shall  we  play  out  the  deal?  No!  I  throw  my  cards  upon 
the  table!  You,  sir,  are  a  gentleman:  you  have  just  betrayed 
yourself.  But  I  knew  it  by  your  fighting;  I  saw  a  cross-counter 
they  use  at  Eton;  my  nephew  shewed  me  the  trick  but  lately. 
You  sparred  with  your  brains  and  kept  your  hands  lower 
than  our  yokels  keep  theirs.  Oh,  yes,  I  marked  you  closely ; 
'twas  a  treat,  sir!  I  boxed  myself  until  I  took  orders,  and  have 
seen  some  pretty  battles  since. " 

He  swung  round  in  his  stride,  for  he  was  softly  pacing  the 
room,  and  regarded  me  full  with  his  chin  up,  watching  the  effect 
of  his  disclosures. 

[122] 


CHAPTER  FOURTEEN 


"There  is  a  cipher  upon  your  linen,  you  forgot  that  when 
you  peeled,  sir.  Again,  who  are  you  ? " 

"I  am  called  George  Fanshawe. "  (  I  had  never  concealed  my 
name.  ) 

"So  much  I  knew.  Of  the  Maskelyne-Fanshawes  ?  Not  a  son 
of  Sir  Algernon  ? " 

"No,  sir!"  I  answered  shortly. 

Whilst  speaking  he  had  unlocked  a  cupboard  and  set  a  de- 
canter and  two  glasses  upon  the  table  and  was  filling  both. 

"To  our  better  acquaintance!"  he  said,  lifting  one  to  his 
lips  and  motioning  me  to  follow  his  example  with  the  finest 
manner  in  the  world.  "You  see  I  am  determined  to  assist  you. 
What!  you  hesitate.  Have  I  failed  to  make  myself  understood  ?" 

"Sir!  you  are  monstrous  kind.  I  am  sensible  of  it,  and 
now  I  know  not  what  to  say.  You  will  think  me  a  clown:  be 
it  so,  but  I  will  not  drink  with  you!" 

I  believe  I  flushed  furiously,  my  plaisters  smarted,  and  I 
felt  sufficiently  uncomfortable,  both  outwardly  and  inwardly, 
at  rejecting  such  advances  from  such  a  man. 

His  handsome  face  passed  from  the  warmth  of  proffered 
kindliness  to  blank  amaze,  and  thence  to  a  sudden  heat,  and 
again  to  self-mastery  and  the  politeness  due  from  host  to  the 
guest  beneath  his  roof. 

"Mr.  Fanshawe,"  he  said,  replacing  his  glass  upon  the 
board,  "you  are  young,  but  not  so  young  as  to  be  ignorant  of 
what  you  have  done.  There  are  men  who  could  not  digest  such 
a  —  such  a  refusal.  My  cloth  and  my  station  permit  me  to 
ignore  it.  You  are,  as  I  think,  the  only  man  in  the  East  Riding 
—  aye,  from  my  Lord  Archbishop  down  —  who  would  decline 
to  take  wine  with  James  Godolphin.  May  I  be  permitted  to 
ask  your  reason  ? ' 

I  stood  hot  and  silent,  picking  my  phrase. 

"Come,  lad!"  he  cried,  with  feeling  in  his  voice,  "I  can 

[123] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

guess  how  it  stands  with  you,  but,  'once  a  gentleman,  always 
a  gentleman.'  There  is  excellent  stuff  in  you,  I  maintain  it! 
And  I  was  never  deceived  in  my  judgment  of  a  man  yet.  / 
have  not  lost  faith  in  you,  so  believe  in  yourself.  What  ?  we  will 
start  fresh;  pluck  up  your  heart;  take  your  self-respfect  again 
in  both  hands!" 

This  was  worse  and  worse. 

"Sir!  you  go  too  fast,"  I  cried.  "I  am  not  a  felon;  I  am  no 
disgraced  man;  there  is  nothing  —  nothing  upon  my  hands, 
or  name,  or  conscience  that  makes  me  unworthy  to  touch  glasses 
with  you!' 

"What,  then?" 

"It  is  you,  sir  —  yes,  you,  who  have  but  this  minute  in- 
sulted my  friend!" 

"Your  —  friend?  Pardon  me,  I  do  not  quite  take  you.  You 
cannot  have  apostatised  to  these  vulgar  sectaries  ?" 

"I  am  not  a  Methodist,  if  that  is  what  you  mean, 
but—" 

"Then  why  —  what  —  ?  See  here;  a  gentleman,  a  Fanshawe, 
may  sink  his  gentrice  for  a  term  to  earn  his  bread  (  as  so  many 
of  these  unfortunate  emigres  are  doing  ).  You  are  of  the  younger 
branch,  I  take  it;  pardon  my  ignorance,  we  Yorkshiremen  are 
not  so  familiar  with  your  southern  stocks  as  we  should  be. 
What  was  I  saying  ?  Ah,  yes!  'tis  no  disgrace  to  pouch  the 
shilling  one  has  sweated  for,  non  olet,  you  remember  ?  But,  you 
said  'friend';  the  fellow  is  a  dissenter!" 

"For  what  did  you  think  I  fought?"  I  blurted.  "You  don't 
know  how  good  he  is!"  but  I  beat  upon  a  locked  door. 

"As  your  rector,  sir,  I  cannot  reason  with  you.  You  must 
take  it  from  me  that  the  sin  of  schism  is  no  light  thing  in  the 
sight  of  the  Almighty. " 

We  were  hopelessly  at  cross-purposes.  I  am  no  talker,  nor 
ever  was.  I  bowed  and  turned  to  the  door.  He  was  before  me 


CHAPTER  FOURTEEN 


and  held  it  wide  with  the  finest  courtesy.  In  the  porch  he  ex- 
tended his  hand. 

"You  have  taken  it  once!" 

"I  was  surprised,  sir,  then,"  said  I,  keeping  mine  behind 
me.  We  bowed  low  to  one  another  and  parted.  The  door  closed 
behind  me  upon  paradise;  all  my  lower  nature,  all  my  old  self 
cried  out  upon  my  folly,  yearned  for  the  softness  and  fineness 
of  the  spacious  life  I  had  known  and  had  lost.  The  cadences 
of  that  rich  voice,  the  gestures  and  movements  of  the  man,  the 
ripple  of  ladies'  laughter  had  thrilled  me  like  an  old  song. 

But  between  us  stood  a  wall  of  this  man's  own  building,  his 
harsh  scorn  of  all  that  I  had  just  found  to  be  so  good. 

I  strode  back  to  my  stable  the  happier  and  the  prouder  for 
my  protest. 

"Eh,  laad!  tha  looks  finely  considerin'.  A  wish  a  could 
luke  as  peart  masen!" 

'Twas  Ted  Woodhead  reining  up  a  rough  roadster  to  greet 
me  in  passing. 

"Why,  what  ails  ye?  "said  I. 

"Matter!  Matter  enough,  lad.  A  thievin*  matter!  a  hangin' 
matter,  too,  as  I  ho-apes  to  see  it,  if  I  walks  to  the  gallows 
nine  miles  barefoot  and  fastin'!  D  —  n  the  roogs!  Ma'  osses! 
the  soondest,  best  bred,  oop-stannin'  est  geldings  i'  the  riding! 
All  gone!  stollen!  D  —  n  the  villains!" 

"Ne  —  ver!"  I  gasped,  for  the  magnitude  of  the  man's  loss 
appealed  to  me. 

"Eh,  laad!  these  are  bad  times!  What  wi'  Methodies  —  but, 
I  beg  tha  pardon!  an'  bloody  French  Jacobites,  an'  Hirish 
Papishes,  a  honest  Yorkshire  laad  canna  go  to  a  bull-baitin' 
wi'  out  findin'  his  stock  stollen  whan  'e  coomes  'ome!  Lord! 
'tis  crool!  'tis  crool!" 

"But  your  men  —  " 

"Our  fellers?"  he  brought  the  ground  ash  down  upon  his 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

buskin  with  a  sounding  thwack.  "Where  should  they  be  ?  At  the 
yale-house,  laad,  droonk  as  lords!  'ticed  awaay  there,  they 
saay,  an'  summut  put  in  their  drink,  seemingly;  for  there's  ne'er 
a  man  o'  them  can  keep  his  eyes  open  yet,  tho'  Bob  an'  I  has 
hided  'em  to  rights,  I  gi'  tha  ma  word!' 

"Eh,  but  Bob's  maad — maad!  he's  away  to  owdYork  for 
runners  and  bills,  and  I'm  for  t'owd  rector  for  a  constable  and  a 
warrant,  and  so  good  day  to  thee,  and  mind  tha  keeps  tha  eyes 
about  tha  when  drivin'  the  roads,  tha  knaws  our  geldings,  all 
docked  greys,  true  Yorkshire  coachin'  stock. 

Aye,  and  for  the  thieves  too.  Look  tha,  one's  a  Gypsy, 
a  dommed  hatchet-faaced  roog  ( I've  seen  him  aboot  the 
pla'ace  masen  a  week  since  )  in  a  cat-skin  cap,  wi'  rings  in 
his  ears  and  a  red  comforter  where  the  halter  shall  be  yet!  " 

"I'll  not  forget,"  said  I,  and  then  upon  an  impulse  stayed 
him  as  he  would  be  riding  off,  my  mind,  as  you  may  say, 
hunting  a  stale  line,  "  What  of  the  master-thief?  was  he  not  a 
great,  hulking  sailor-man  ? " 

"Noa,  laad,  noa,  whativer  maks  tha  ask?  The  feller 
they  called  'captain'  were  a  wee,  jocky-built  man,  nobbut  a 
younker  to  look  at.  'Sam'  they  called  him,  or  one  of  our  chaps 
says  they  did,  but  what's  thot  to  go  upon?  Sam  indeed! 
D — n  the  roog!  wheer's  ma  osses  ?  Dressed?  hoo  was  t'feller 
dressed,  tha  wants  to  know  ?  Hoo  should  a  be  dressed  ?  loike 
another  maan,  loike  masen,  i'  leathers,  mebbe";  he  slapp- 
ed his  own,  then  recollecting  himself,  "Oa,  i'a  longish,  brown 
ridin'-coat,  loike  this-sa,  ma  nagsman  said  (  he'll  be  sayin' 
next  thot  a  stowll  ma  'osses  masen!  ).  Oa,  and  a  beaver,  was 
it  ?  Noa,  I  jaloose  'twere  a  cap  wi'  peak  and  pull-downs  fur 
t'ears.  But,  there,  a  mun  bid  tha  good  day,  for  t'longer  a  stan' 
chattin'  here,  t'further  ma  'osses  wull  a  got. " 

He  was  gone.  I  had  the  clue  in  my  hand,  as  you  can  see,  as  I 
can  see  myself  now,  but  let  it  drop  unheeded.  Similarities  of 


CHAPTER  FOURTEEN 


dress,  identity  of  name  went  for  nothing  to  a  mind  already 
possessed  by  a  couple  of  fixed  ideas,  viz.,  that  Mr.  Sam  Brown 
was  a  Peterborough  maltster  (  had  not  the  driver  of  the  mail 
said  so  ? )  and  (  my  own  conceit  this  )  that  the  master- 
ruffian  must  needs  be  a  sailor  and  an  over-sized  fellow.  That  a 
dapper  little  tradesman,  so  respectably  attired,  and  such  an 
excellent  man  of  his  hands,  could  possibly  be  a  common  horse- 
thief  was  not  to  be  thought  of. 


MEMOIRS  OF  A 

PERSON  OF  QUALITY 


CHAPTER  FIFTEEN 
THE  FALL  OF  AN  IDOL 


MY  employers  were  called  well-to-do,  and  so  they  were,  or 
might  have  been,  but  for  a  passion  for  giving  which 
kept  them  poor. 

Never  had  I  seen  then,  nor  ever  since,  such  givers  as  they. 

Their  beneficence  was  not  the  easy  weakness  that  divests 
itself  of  its  superfluities  to  the  first  or  loudest  claimant. 
The  vagrant  who  could  give  no  clear  account  of  his  last  job 
and  future  intentions  got  nothing  at  their  hands.  It  was  an 
ordered,  long-foreseen  scheme  that  engrossed  their  thoughts 
and  their  savings;  nothing  less  than  providing  their  circuit  with 
adequate  meeting-houses,  which,  as  their  fellow  sectaries  were, 
for  the  most  part  labouring  folk  with  whom  pence  were  scarce, 
pressed  heavily  upon  the  few  who  could  give  to  any  purpose. 

For  this  end  they  deliberately  bound  themselves  to  find  such 
monthly  installments  as  seemed  to  me,  listening  to  their  un- 
guarded table-talk,  out  of  proportion  to  their  means. 

(  "Tis  lent  to  the  Master,  Jabezl"  was  my  poor  mistress's  word. 
Ah!  well  do  I  remember  it.) 

For  this,  then,  they  slaved  early  and  late.  For  this,  too,  they 
drove  harder  bargains  than  I  could  always  in  my  heart  approve. 
"  But,  then,"  said  I,  *'  this  is  the  way  of  business,  a  matter  of 
which  until  lately  I  knew  nothing,  but  by  which,  as  it  seems, 

[128] 


CHAPTER  FIFTEEN 


I  am  to  get  my  bread  for  a  while.  'Tis  a  dog-eat-dog  sort  of 
game,  and  not  to  my  taste,  but  necessary,  like  butchering  and 
sailoring;  and  I,  being  in  for  it,  must  not  be  squeamish.  These 
good  folks  doubtless  know  the  rules,  and  if  they  are  over  keen 
in  getting,  are  bounteous  in  giving,  God  knows!"  So  I  quieted 
my  conscience  and  worked  at  their  business  until  I  was  as  hard 
as  an  oaken  post  from  shoulder  to  heel  and  fell  asleep  the  in- 
stant I  laid  cheek  to  bolster. 

During  the  month  that  followed  my  interview  with  Mr. 
Godolphin,  it  had  crossed  my  mind  at  times  that  a  crisis  was 
approaching.  To  complete  a  purchase  of  land  for  a  meeting- 
house my  employers  had  mortgaged  some  freeholds,  and  the 
half-yearly  charge  being  overdue  the  mortgagee  grew  impa- 
tient and  threatened  foreclosure.  In  a  word,  this  worthy  couple 
were  in  trouble  and  without  a  friend  to  turn  to. 

Night  after  night  they  wrestled  in  prayer,  and  still  the  answer 
delayed. 

Jabez  scoured  the  country  collecting  debts,  but  our  cus- 
tomers were  bare  of  ready  money,  their  haysel  still  in  doubt 
and  harvest  afar  off;  he  must  wait. 

Growing  discouraged  he  resorted  more  frequently  and 
earlier  in  the  day  to  the  porch-bench  of  the  Fighting  Cocks, 
where,  over  a  tankard  of  his  favourite  brew  he  argued  endlessly 
with  the  adherents  of  Mr.  Godolphin,  returning  late  and  some- 
what unsteadily  to  a  severe  but  silent  wife,  who  had  learned  to 
make  allowance  for  man's  frailty  and  for  the  trials  of  this  par- 
ticular man  and  season. 

There  was  the  miller  to  be  paid,  beside,  a  man  whom  my  em- 
ployers respected;  whom  (  as  they  admitted  )  they  had  "run" 
as  far  as  they  dared,  since  their  credit  with  him  was  precious. 

Well  do  I  remember  the  Friday  night  in  June  preceding  his 
expected  call. 

My  interviews  with  big  Jock  Spence  and  his  rector  had  in 

[129] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

no  way  lessened  my  employers'  regard  for  me,  or  their  solicitude 
for  my  conversion. 

At  family  worship  I  had  been  prayed  for  until  I  sweated 
with  anguish  at  the  prospect  of  God's  anger  and  the  fiery  doom 
of  the  lost.  I  beheld  the  mouth  of  the  pit  gaping  for  my  poor 
helpless  soul,  and  then,  as  my  mistress  pleaded  as  with  a 
Presence  in  the  room  itself,  I  quivered  and  throbbed,  and 
almost  found  salvation.  My  master's  deep-breathed  amens  were 
in  my  ear,  his  great  palm  beat  time  upon  my  shoulder,  the  stool 
chattered  under  me  to  the  bricks  upon  which  I  knelt;  I  yearned 
and  strove,  and  forgot  for  the  time  those  awful  doubts  as  to  the 
fairness  of  it  all,  this  atrocious  creed  of  theirs,  with  its  wheel- 
work  deity  ticking  blindly  on  from  eternity  to  eternity  and 
everlastingly  blasting  the  poor  faulty  creatures  whom  He  had 
—  made  so. 

I  palpitated  and  writhed,  I  say,  and  next  moment  the  strain 
relaxed,  and  she  was  appealing  to  the  helper  of  His  children 
for  help  for  her  man  and  herself  in  the  very  words  of  the  sorely- 
tried  Psalmist,  brokenly,  earnestly,  at  last  confidently. 

"Jabez!"  she  said,  solemnly,  as  she  rose  from  her  knees, 
"the  answer  has  come.  Mark  me,  to-morrow  the  Lord  will 
provide  !  " 

It  was  on  the  Saturday  afternoon,  but  still  early,  that  the 
miller  called,  as  I  knew  he  would,  for  we  were  two  months  be- 
hind in  our  payments. 

I  was  mending  sacks  in  the  meal-store  beside  the  shop  into 
which  it  opened,  having  a  door  of  its  own  to  the  street  besides. 
Here  as  I  worked,  seated  astride  a  bag  of  pollard  with  my 
fingers  busy  and  my  mind  more  settled  and  at  ease  than  since 
I  had  come  to  Ouseby,  I  heard  wheels  and  the  sounds  of  a 
horse  brought  to  a  stand  without,  and  then,  close  at  hand  in  the 
shop,  the  voice  of  Mr.  Ellwood  the  Quaker,  greeting  my  mis- 
tress. 


CHAPTER  FIFTEEN 


As  I  expected,  he  had  called  for  his  overdue  account,  and, 
knowing,  as  I  did,  that  the  money  was  with  us  in  the  house,  it 
disturbed  me  to  hear  my  mistress  lead  the  conversation  astray, 
and,  when  brought  gently  back  to  the  point,  hesitate  and  ask 
for  yet  another  month's  grace. 

But  her  creditor  demurred,  reminding  her  of  promises  given 
a  month  and  two  months  before,  upon  which  he  had  (  as  he 
said  )  relied,  having  engagements  of  his  own  to  meet  in  turn. 

The  man  spoke  slowly,  gently,  but  with  decision.  My  mind 
went  with  him. 

Then  there  was  the  chink  of  coin,  and  through  the  wide  rift 
of  the  hinge  before  me  as  I  sat,  I  could  see  Mr.  Ellwood  telling 
the  money,  and  presently  the  scratching  of  a  quill  told  me  that 
he  was  writing  his  receipt. 

All  passed  in  a  natural  manner.  My  presence  behind  the 
door,  though  known  to  my  mistress,  who  had  spoken  to  me 
from  the  shop  some  half-hour  before,  may  well  have  escaped 
her,  nor  was  there  anything  in  my  work  to  remind  her  or 
apprise  her  creditor  of  my  presence.  The  bright  bent  needle 
slid  in  and  out  the  sack-cloth  and  drew  silently  after  it  lengths 
of  soft  filasse;  it  was  only  when  I  folded  and  laid  aside  a  mended 
sack,  or  chose  another  from  the  heap  awaiting  repair,  that  my 
movements  were  audible  to  others. 

Suddenly  there  was  a  snarl  of  a  dog  without  and  a  soft  cry, 
followed  by  a  clatter  of  hoofs  and  the  rasp  of  departing  wheels. 

The  miller  ran  from  the  shop  leaving  the  counter  strewn 
with  his  money.  I,  glancing  through  the  chink  to  learn  what 
had  happened,  beheld  my  mistress's  face  gazing  after  him 
sharpen  and  chill  to  a  sudden  bleakness;  "Will  —  provide!" 
she  bleated  brokenly;  I  caught  the  ring  of  money  and  the 
crumpling  of  paper,  but  in  my  confusion  and  haste  these 
sounds  conveyed  no  meaning  at  the  moment.  Springing  through 
the  street  door  behind  me,  which  stood  ajar,  I  saw  the  dog  of 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITT 

our  opposite  neighbour,  the  tanner,  slinking  off  with  the  tucked- 
in  tail  that  tells  of  guilt,  and  the  miller's  gig  rattling  down 
street,  with  Mr.  Ellwood  in  hopeless  pursuit. 

Now  the  road  that  way  makes  a  sharp  bend  —  (  the  place  is 
called  "Crooked  Ouseby"  )  —  and  it  came  upon  me  that  with 
luck  I  might  cut  off  the  runaway. 

Scudding  across  the  street  and  through  the  tanner's  yard- 
gates  I  was  out  at  the  back  and  had  traversed  the  length  of  his 
bark-sheds  before  I  drew  breath.  He  was  shifting  hides  from 
a  pit  and  looked  up,  hook  in  hand,  with  some  word  that  I  waited 
not  to  answer,  for  I  had  leapt  the  gate  into  his  long  paddock 
and  was  running  my  hardest  for  the  palings  at  its  farther  end 
beyond  which  was  the  road.  These,  too,  I  leapt,  and,  though 
the  drop  shook  me,  had  breath  enough  left  to  strip  my  slop  and 
to  swing  it  aloft  before  the  mare,  now  around  the  corner  and  gallop- 
ing wildly,  was  upon  me.  She  swerved,  faltered,  changed  her  foot 
and  I  knew  she  was  mine.  Next  moment  I  had  her  safely  by  the 
head,  and  brought  her  to  a  stand,  though  dragged  a  few  yards. 

There  was  nothing  in  this  to  praise:  it  was  but  what  many 
and  many  a  country-bred  lad  who  knows  horses  will  do  and 
reckon  as  all  in  his  day's  work. 

Yet  I  was  pleased  with  myself,  as  a  man  will  ever  be  who 
has  run  his  best  and  caught  what  he  ran  to  catch,  be  it  a  ball 
or  a  horse;  and,  whisking  the  dust  out  of  my  eyes,  I  was  first 
aware  of  an  occupant  of  the  gig,  a  young  girl  pale  and  scared, 
whose  little  hands  shook  as  they  fumbled  upon  the  rein.  It  was 
the  sweet  young  face  of  my  fancy. 

Our  eyes  met  and  her's  thanked  me,  tho'  her  lip  quivered 
too  much  to  be  trusted  with  speech  when  I  raised  my  cap  and 
hoped  she  was  unhurt.  The  seat  beside  her  was  strewn  with  a 
posy  of  fritillaries,  white  and  purple,  which  she  had  dropt 
when  she  clutched  the  reins.  I  must  always  remember  that  day 
when  I  see  that  flower. 

[132] 


CHAPTER  FIFTEEN 


I  had  turned  the  mare  and  was  leading  her  back  when  the 
runners  came  up,  Mr.  Ellwood  panting  among  them,  his 
features  awork  with  just-passed  fear  and  present  gratitude. 
He  gripped  my  hand  hard  and  returned  beside  me,  quieting 
the  horse  but  saying  little. 

At  the  sight  of  the  shop  open  and  unkept  he  looked  con- 
cerned and  found  his  tongue,  though  still  out  of  breath. 

"  I  left  —  in  haste  —  and  without  —  thought  for  the  money," 
he  said,  "there  was  forty  pounds  and  more  lying  loose  upon 
the  counter.  I  trust — " 

"Have  no  fear,  sir,"  said  I,  "my  mistress  was  gathering  it 
when  I  left.  I  saw  her." 

And  with  that,  we  being  at  the  shop  again,  I  turned  into  the 
street-door  of  the  meal-store,  and  he,  as  I  suppose,  giving  his 
horse  to  some  man  to  hold,  went  up  into  the  shop. 

It  was  empty. 

I  was  for  resuming  my  needle-work  but  must  needs  wait 
a  while,  my  hands  shaking  with  running.  While  thus  idle  I 
heard  Mr.  Ellwood  in  the  shop  calling  clearly  for  my  mistress 
twice,  and,  after  a  pause,  her  answer  from  above  in  the  house, 
and  her  step  upon  the  stair. 

"And  was  the  little  lady  scairt  ?"  she  asked,  entering  briskly 
with  her  hand  pressed  to  her  side,  and,  without  waiting  for  an 
answer,  ran  on  praising  God  that  no  harm  had  befallen  any. 
"I  could  not  watch  ye;  indeed  I  could  not.  I  came  over  all 
faint-like,  and  must  have  gone  off  had  I  not  got  to  my  bed.  I 
am  but  this  moment  risen  on  hearing  ye  call." 

"Yes,  we  must  be  thankful.  It  was  mercifully  overruled. 
And  now,  neighbour  Medcalf,  I  will  thank  thee  for  my  money. " 

"Your  —  money?  Surely,  sir,  it  lies  here,  all  here,  where 
ye  left  it.  Where  else  ?" 

"Ten  guineas  are  missing  of  the  amount,"  he  replied  with 
gravity. 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

I  caught  my  breath  with  a  premonition  of  something  im- 
pending. 

"Ten  guineas!"  she  repeated  in  a  changed  and  heightened 
key.  "Indeed,  I  am  sorry  for  ye,  Mr.  Ellwood,  but  what  can 
we  expect  if  we  leaves  the  door  wide  and  our  money  loose  and 
all  about  whilst  chasing  a  horse  ?" 

"But  surely  thou  didst  not  leave  it  unguarded?  The  re- 
ceipt I  signed  is  gone,  beside;  it  lay  with  the  money  and  was 
of  no  value  to  the  thief.  Think,  my  friend;  we  do  things  awry 
in  moments  of  agitation,  but  the  remembrance  of  what  we  did 
presently  returns,  as  this  will  to  thee.  Think!" 

"All  I  can  say  is  —  "  she  began. 

"Nay,  give  thyself  time!  Let  me  help  thee  to  recall  what 
passed.  When  the  horse  started  I  stood  here,  so;  and  thou 
where  thou  stands  now;  and  the  money  —  forty,  sixteen,  nine 
—  lay  between  us  in  piles  as  I  had  told  it.  Thou  remembers  ? 
Well,  'twas  not  so  when  I  returned,  but  mixed  and  scattered 
and  the  gold  short.  Think;  thy  first  impulse  was  to  gather  it 
together  for  safety,  for  I  am  told  thou  —  " 

"  'Tis  a  lie,  I  tell  ye!  As  God  is  my  witness  I  never  laid 
finger  to  it!" 

"Stop!"  cried  Ellwood  with  sudden  sternness. 

"Oh,  stop  her,  don't  let  her!  Oh,  don't  say  it,  Mistress!" 
I  cried  in  an  agony,  bursting  upon  them. 

There  was  a  moment  of  heavy  silence,  my  apparition  taking 
both  so  utterly  by  surprise. 

My  poor  mistress  backed  away  from  me  although  the  counter 
lay  between  us,  holding  her  hands  as  if  to  ward  me  off. 

Mr.  Ellwood,  absolutely  composed  and  painfully  grave,  said 
nought. 

"Here  is  the  thief!"  cried  Mrs.  Medcalf  in  a  high-pitched, 
hard,  unnatural  voice.  "Ah!  ye  wretch,  to  think  that  ye  should 
rob  us  after  all  our  prayers  for  ye!  He  was  behind  that  door, 


CHAPTER  FIFTEEN 


Mr.  Ellwood,  from  first  to  last.  I  clean  overlooked  the  wretch 
when  I  left  the  shop.  Here's  the  thief  ready  to  your  hand. 
Send  men  for  the  constable  and  for  Mr.  Godolphin,  quick!  Ah, 
sinner,  sinner!  Be  sure  your  sin  shall  find  you  out!" 

As  for  myself  I  had  no  word  to  say.  The  horror  of  the  thing 
stunned  me.  It  was  not  the  thought  that  this  might  be  a  hanging 
charge  which  appalled  me  —  (  before  Romilly's  time  men, 
and  women  too,  hung  for  thefts  of  thirteenpence  from  the  person, 
and  for  five  shillings  from  a  shop  )  —  no,  'twas  the  awful 
change  in  the  woman,  the  face  that  had  never  turned  to  me 
before  save  in  kindness,  the  lips  that  had  agonised  for  my  soul 
as  a  mother's  might  agonise  for  the  life  of  her  dying  babe, 
were  altered,  fallen.  The  eyes  were  the  eyes  of  a  hunted  cat. 
It  was  the  visage  of  a  termagant  fighting  for  her  life  and 
careless  whom  she  wounded  and  dragged  down. 

But  Mr.  Ellwood,  a  man  of  the  soundest  judgment  and  rare 
self-control,  closed  the  shop-door  both  half  and  top  lest 
her  loudness  should  incur  irreparable  scandal,  and  turning 
himself  to  her,  and  placing  a  gentle  hand  upon  hers,  said  — 
"Hephzibah  Medcalf,  thou  art  beside  thyself.  Whatever 
has  become  of  the  money,  or  whoever  has  taken  it,  this  young 
man  is  innocent.  In  his  case  it  was  not  possible.  He  left  thy 
store  as  I  passed  it,  running;  he  must  have  outrun  me,  how  I 
know  not,  for  'twas  he  that  caught  my  mare.  It  was  he  that 
led  her  back  to  this  door,  for  I  walked  beside  him.  Nor  was 
he  the  first  to  enter  thy  shop;  it  was  empty  when  I  passed  that 
threshold.  Again,  I  entreat  thee,  think!  What  hast  thou  done 
with  those  ten  guineas?" 

She  looked  from  him  to  me  and  back  again  to  him,  but 
furtively;  she  could  not  meet  the  eye  of  either,  and  began 
once  more  to  call  her  Maker  to  witness  her  innocence,  but 
brokenly,  hopelessly,  mechanically. 

"Are  ye  mad,  Mistress?"   I  stammered.  "Listen  to  me 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QU4LITT 

and  collect  yourself  before  'tis  too  late.  Before  I  left  my  seat 
there,  see!  close  to  the  door-cheek  —  I  saw  you  —  yes,  you  — 
at  the  money;  your  hands  were  over  it,  so;  I  heard  ye  crumple 
some  paper,  too.  Come!  maam,  try  to  remember  what  ye 
have  done  with  it ;  try,  for  Christ's  sake! " 

"Viper!"  she  shrilled  with  flaming  cheeks,  and  throwing 
herself  half  across  the  counter  fetched  me  a  sudden  cuff  that 
set  my  cheek  burning,  and  then  cowered  back  with  her  hands 
before  her  face,  her  shoulders  heaving  with  her  sobs. 

I  shifted  a  foot  without  speech  or  formed  intention,  but 
at  the  sound  she  moved  a  hand  and  shot  so  apprehensive  a 
glance  at  the  shelf  behind  me  that  I  too  glanced  that  way. 

You  must  know  that  the  smaller  wooden  measures  we  used 
in  our  trade  when  not  in  hand  were  kept  upon  that  shelf.  My 
mistress  was  an  orderly  person,  and  would  have  her  husband 
and  me  put  everything  in  its  place.  What  I  saw  was  that  the 
pint-pot  had  broken  rank,  and  with  one  of  those  unaccountable 
intuitions  that  visit  one  at  times,  and  of  which  one's  work-a-day 
self  is  incapable,  I  raised  my  hand  to  the  measure. 

In  a  moment  she  was  upon  me. 

"Don't  touch  it,  George!  O,  as  you  love  me,  for  the  dear 
Lord's  sake,  George,  let  it  be!  Oh,  George!  —  dear  George!" 

For  I,  lifting  it  carefully  down  and  finding  it  heavier  than  it's 
won't,  placed  it  in  Mr.  Ellwood's  hands,  seeing  only  its  mouth 
stopped  with  a  ball  of  crumpled  paper. 

"My  receipt!"  quoth  he  very  low,  and  withdrawing  the 
wad  and  seeing  what  lay  beneath,  "and  —  my  money!  Young 
man,  I  thank  thee  for  the  second  time  to-day.  Wilt  thou 
kindly  say  nothing  ?  —  but  I  need  not  ask  it.  Perhaps  thou 
wilt  leave  me  with  thy  mistress. " 

"My  poor,  poor  friend!"  was  his  word,  breathed  low  and 
brokenly  with  an  infinite,  pitiful  gentleness.  I  closed  the  door 
upon  them,  and  climbing  to  my  loft  flung  myself  upon  my  knees. 

[136] 


CHAPTER  FIFTEEN 


The  world  rocked  with  me  and  ran  round;  whatever  I 
clutched  at  failed.  A  horror  of  darkness,  empty  and  drear, 
fell  upon  my  spirit.  It  was  all  done  with;  a  vile  and  rotten  pre- 
tence from  underpinnings  to  ridge-tile!  The  ail-but  effected 
conversion,  the  work  of  three  months,  ripped  like  rotten  sacking 
and  fell  from  me,  leaving  me  nakeder  and  colder  than  before 
I  knew  my  sin  or  felt  the  need  of  Grace. 

She  —  she,  their  minister,  the  divider  of  the  Word,  whose 
tones,  looks  and  gestures  had  moved  me  and  had  moved  crowd- 
ed meeting-houses  to  tears,  or  set  all  hearts  swelling  with 
strong  hopes;  she,  upon  whose  head  a  great  saint  had  laid 
ordaining  hands,  she,  the  Deborah,  the  holy  Anna  of  this 
country-side,  a  liar,  a  thief,  a  false  accuser! 

I  writhed  in  a  very  agony  of  shame  —  no  sin  of  my  own 
(  and  God  knows  my  sins  have  been  many  )  ever  caused  me 
such  utter  humiliation  and  grief. 

"Oh  Lord!  Lord!"  I  cried,  expecting  no  answer  to  my  cry, 
for  the  light  that  had  been  but  a  reflected  light,  borrowed 
from  her,  was  gone  out. 


[137] 


MEMOIRS   OF  A 

PERSON  OF  QUALITY 


CHAPTER  SIXTEEN 
I   FORGET  GOD 


I    ROSE  from  my  knees  a  beliefless  man,  an  orphaned  soul 
adrift  in  a  universe  deserted  by  its  Maker. 
Nor    could  I  face    my    mistress    again.    I    tied    my 
bundle  and  left  the  house.  Never  did  thief  caught  in  his  larceny 
slink  from  the  scene  of  his  disgrace  more  brokenly  than  I. 

Looking  neither  to  right  nor  left  I  passed  down  the  street, 
dreading  each  moment  to  be  accosted  and  questioned  by 
some  neighbour.  Dumb  beneath  my  load  of  misery  it  did  not 
cross  my  mind  to  say  good-bye  to  Mr.  Baxter;  to  have  included 
that  good  and  pure  soul  in  my  revulsion  against  Methodism 
was  sinfully  unjust.  May  it  be  forgiven  me!  I  was  little  better 
than  a  boy,  ignorant  and  passionate. 

Other  friend  in  Ouseby  I  had  none,  hardly  acquaintance 
even.  With  the  young  men  of  my  age  and  (  supposed  )  station 
who  affected  the  Establishment  I  had  little  in  common. 
It  was  a  day  of  looseness  in  speech  and  life  in  all  classes,  against 
which  Methodism  was  itself  the  protest.  In  Ouseby  you  must 
perforce  be  one  or  the  other,  and  by  the  chances  of  the  night  of 
my  entering  the  town  I  was  ranked  from  the  first  among  the 
Saints  and  had  made  no  acquaintance  outside  their  sect.  Nor 
many  within  it;  for  whether  it  were  some  strangeness  in  my 
dialect  and  style  repelled  them  (  as  theirs  repelled  me  )  I 

[138] 


CHAPTER  SIXTEEN 


was  considered  uncompanionable  by  the  chapel-going  youth. 

Nor  by  good  luck,  or  my  own  ungainliness,  did  I  leave,  so 
far  as  I  know,  one  Ouseby  lass  with  a  thought  of  me  in  her 
bosom. 

I  had  found  the  talk  of  these  north-country  folk  a  difficulty 
at  the  onset,  and  to  the  end  it  seemed  to  me  inexpressibly 
coarse,  and  their  manners  singularly  blunt  compared  with 
ours  in  Suffolk,  and  the  distinction  in  speech  and  behaviour 
between  the  common  people  and  our  class  more  pronounced 
than  at  home. 

In  time  I  grew  used  to  this  in  the  men,  my  workmates,  but 
in  the  mouths  of  women  and  girls  it  continued  to  repel  me  as 
something  strange  and  unnatural,  and  they  remained  for- 
eigners to  me,  and,  I  doubt  not,  I  to  them. 

Many  of  these  countrywomen  and  marriageable  girls  were 
as  men  in  bone,  stature  and  strength;  their  striding  gait, 
breadth  of  hip,  and  boisterous  carriage  were  an  amazement  to 
me,  as  were  their  tow-coloured  hair,  white  eye-lashes  and 
freckled  faces,  after  the  brown  hair,  brown  eyes  and  apple 
cheeks  of  our  Suffolk  dumplings. 

But  I  have  left  myself  in  act  of  slipping  out  of  Ouseby  as 
unobserved  as  might  be. 

Yet  I  was  not  to  escape  altogether  unmarked.  Unless  I 
repeated  my  short  cut  through  the  tanner's  yard  I  must  needs 
pass  the  Fighting  Cocks,  and  there  upon  his  favourite  bench 
sat  my  master,  pipe  in  hand  and  pot  at  elbow,  our  next  neigh- 
bour Oades  the  woolstapler  upon  his  one  side,  and  Beamish  the 
host  upon  the  other. 

'  'Ullo,  Gearge  ! "  he  cried,  arising  a  trifle  heavily,  and 
stayed  me  by  a  hand  upon  my  shoulder,  humming  a  stave  from 
his  favourite  hymn: 

"Of  serious  subjects  we  will  sing, 
Damnation  and  the  dead  I  " 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITT 

and  then  half  turning,  with  a  hiccup  continued  his  interrupted 
parable. 

"Now,  /  maintain  as  ye  two  stand,  as  the  Book  says,  in 
slippery  places  .  .  .  Wait  a  bit!" 

"Stiddy!  stiddy!  old  friend!"  purred  Oades.  "I  reads 
ma  Bible  —  not  so  offen  as  I  might,  but  read  it  I  do,  some- 
times, and  as  I  reads  I  walks." 

"Rides!"  interjected  my  master  with  a  sneer,  for  the  wool- 
stapler  was  notoriously  slothful. 

"Rides,  then,  for  ma  trade  lies  widish,  and  coom  to  thot, 
sitha  of  a  Sunday  how  I  treats  ma  'oss.  No  compassin's  and 
tearin's  acrost  sea  and  iaand  for  to  maake  one  proselyte!  Eh, 
Jabez?" 

Mr.  Beamish  chuckled. 

"No!"  pursued  Oades,  "but  I  oops  an*  gi's  him  a  extry 
feed  o'  corn,  and  tbaat  I  calls  'loving  mercy',  then  I  rubs 
him  down  speshul  handsome,  and  coombs  oot  'is  tdaily  and 
thaat  I  calls  'doin'  justly,'  and  arter  I  leads  'im  along  so  easy 
to  watter,  and  thaat  I  calls  Svalkin'  'umbly,'  and  my  Bible 
tells  me  to  'do  justly,  an'  love  mercy,  and  walk  'umbly,'  and  so 
I  does.  Now,  what  d'ye  maake  o'  thaat,  Methody  ?  Ah,  I've 
got  ye!" 

"Filthy  rags!"  cried  my  master,  "ye  are  of  them  that  go 
about  to  'stablish  their  own  righteousness,  like  Beamish  here. " 

"Not  so  fast,  Mr.  Medcalf,"  said  the  host;  "now  you  'tend 
to  me;  I  brews  strong  ale  ( we  draws  no  small  at  The 
Cocks,  )  I  gi's  ye  good  measure  —  blow  off  that  head  and  if 
the  pot  isn't  full  I'll  fill  it.  I  keeps  open  house  all  legal  hours, 
and  if  a  poor  soul  be  dry  in  church  time  he  knows  which 
shutter  to  rap  in  my  backyard.  How's  that  for  ye,  Mr.  Med- 
calf?" 

"Carnal  righteousness!  Ye're  both  on  ye  restin'  on  works, 
and  'pon  my  soul,  if  the  pair  on  ye  was  shook  to-and-again 

[140] 


CHAPTER  SIXTEEN 


in  a  sack  the  devil  only  knows  which'd  come  out  forrardest!" 

Then,  wheeling  towards  me  a  triumphant  face,  and  taking 
me  in  with  a  bemused  and  genial  eye: 

"Aha!  I  see  ye,  I  seen  it  all;  well  run,  Gearge!  dall  me,  but 
ye  can  wag  yer  lags!  But  I  didn't  say  nothin'  when  'e  corned 
back  wi'  the  gig.  Sez  I,  'Lay  back,  Jabez,  lave  'urn  to  Hephzi- 
bah!'  sez  I,  'she'll  work  'urn,  if  so  be  as  'e  is  tc  be  worked!'  ' 
Then  with  a  wink  and  an  attempt  at  a  whisper,  "Did  she  run 
'urn  another  month,  Gearge  ?" 

"  I  doubt  not,  master,"  said  I, "  but  —  fact  is,  this  is  good-bye. 
I'm  leaving  you." 

"Leavin'  ?  Wha'  for  ?  Wubbegwain  ?"  he  stuttered,  dropping 
deeper  into  his  native  speech,  for,  unlike  my  mistress,  who  was 
Lincolnshire,  my  master  was  Wiltshire  born. 

"  Wubbegwain,  I  say  ?"  his  face  darkened.  "But  never  mind, 
ye  can't  go.  Ye  owe  us  s-s-seven  days'  notice." 

"True,  master,  I'd  forgot  that,  but  'tis  Saturday  and  you've 
my  week's  wages  in  hand,  and  for  my  board  take  these  three 
shillings. " 

"Tha's  fair!"  he  remarked,  considering  the  silver  in  his 
hand  ere  he  spat  on  it  for  luck.  "  But  wha'  for  ? "  he  repeated, 
waving  off  my  offered  hand.  "Ye  ain't  had  words  wi'  Hephzi- 
bah,  sure-ly  ?  .  .  .  N'mind  her,  Gearge,  she  don't  mean 
nothing  ;  /  ought  to  know!  And  she's  mortal  set  on  ye,  too.  Co' 
back  'long  o'  me  now,  and  meake  it  up!" 

"No,  Mr.  Medcalf,  thank  ye  kindly,  but  I'm  done  with 
Ouseby,  and  much  beside.  For  the  reason,  ask  my  mistress 
to-morrow,  and  —  believe  what  she  tells  ye. " 

He  grasped  my  hand  and  held  it  until  my  nails  pricked. 
His  brown  ox-eyes  clouded  up,  and  pacing  beside  me  in  silence 
to  the  turn  of  the  road  he  lugged  out  a  crown  and  made  me  take 
it. 

"Gearge!  Gearge!  ye  are  gwain  from  hwome,  my  son;  ye're 

[Hi] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

leavin'  the  Light  for  the  Darkness.  Get  a  better  job  ye  may, 
but  wi'  all  yer  gettin',  get  salvation!  Lay  hold  on  etarnal  life, 
sonny,  and  then  if  we  niver  meets  noo  mwore  below  we'll 
meet  above, "  and  my  last  remembrance  of  my  warm-hearted 
master  is  of  a  stout  little  man  straddling  somewhat  unsteadily 
in  mid-street,  straightening  a  troubled  countenance  and  pointing 
me  to  the  sky  with  the  stem  of  a  churchwarden  pipe. 


[142] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A 

PERSON  OF  QUALITY 


CHAPTER  SEVENTEEN 
MURDER  AT  MIDNIGHT 


AND  now  begins  the  darkest  chapter  of  my  life.  I  went 
out,  or  rather    fled,  from    Ouseby    as    from    scenes 
made  hateful  to    me    by    disillusionment.    Willingly 
would  I  have  erased  from  my  mind  all  that  I  had  there  learnt, 
suffered,  hoped,  feared  and  lost. 

But  since  misery  and  depression  are  cheerless  comrades, 
I[will  pass  briefly  over  the  ensuing  four  months,  merely  touching 
upon  two  or  three  notable  incidents,  occurrences,  with  one 
exception,  trivial  in  themselves,  but  which  went  to  the  moulding 
of  my  own  life  and  the  lives  of  others. 

Where  I  went  and  how  I  lived  have  exactly  passed  from 
my  memory.  The  time  being  the  beginning  of  summer  and  the 
air  and  country  pleasant,  I  bought  me  a  scythe  and  stone  and 
passed  from  farm  to  farm,  secure  of  work,  at  first  among  the 
grass,  later  among  other  crops,  my  name  and  history  being 
matters  indifferent  to  my  employers  in  whose  barns  I  lay  of 
nights. 

It  was  whilst  thus  upon  the  tramp  somewhere  in  the  south- 
eastern part  of  the  great  county  of  Yorkshire  that  I  chanced 
to  miss  my  road,  for  that  county,  though  well-found  in  turn- 
pikes, has  fewer  lanes  and  by-roads  than  with  us,  and  field- 
paths  are  easily  lost  after  dark. 

[143] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

Night  overtook  me  in  a  great  meadow  around  which  I 
wearily  trudged  without  finding  any  exit  save  the  gate  by  which 
I  had  entered,  so  the  night  being  warm,  overcast  and  extremely 
dark,  for  the  moon  was  in  her  first  quarter,  I  thought  it 
neither  sin  nor  hardship  to  lie  rough,  and  finding  (  more  by 
nose  than  by  sight  )  two  great  half-cut  ricks  and  a  stump  of 
old  hay,  I  climbed  to  the  top  of  the  lowest,  drew  the  thatch 
about  me  and  thought  to  fall  asleep. 

Certainly  I  was  overtired,  the  scythe  being  still  strange 
to  me;  my  head  hummed,  my  wrists  tingled  and  twitched,  but 
at  length  I  dropt  off,  and  in  a  long,  hot  dream  I  smelled 
the  smell  of  horses  and  heard  their  jaws  moving  below  me  and 
the  talking  of  men.  My  bed  rocked  under  me  and  I  awaked  to 
find  my  dream  true.  In  the  thick  darkness  beneath  horses 
moved  and  fed  and  men  stilled  them,  conversing  in  guarded 
tones. 

Then  burst  upon  the  night  the  high  metallic  pitch  of  a  man 
singing —  such  a  voice  it  was  as  they  have  who  sing  at  fairs  and 
wakes  and  beside  the  roads,  and  as  for  the  song  it  was  one  I 
had  heard  at  a  harvest-home  in  Suffolk. 

"7  went  for  a  walk  and  I  met  wi'  a  snail, 

Tiddle  alone! 
I  rode  between  bis  horns  and  bis  tail, 

Tiddle  alone!  Tiddle  alone/  Tiddle 
comes  roll  —  ing  home!  /  !  " 

The  songster,  whoever  he  might  be,  was  in  drink,  for  he 
blundered  against  the  rump  of  a  horse,  which  nickered  and  shift- 
ed as  he  smote  it  a  sounding  spank  with  his  open  hand  and 
bade  it  get  over. 

"Damn  that  tinker!  he'll  rouse  the  traps,"  growled  a  bass 
voice  just  below  me. 

"Silence,  there!  Lea!  d'ye  hear?"  This  was  a  voice  I  had 

[144] 


CHAPTER  SEVENTEEN 


heard  somewhere  —  its  level  tone  of  decision  found  an  echo  in 
memory,  but  neither  name,  time,  nor  place  hung  to  it. 

"Then  for  pit  —  y  I  prayed 

The  po-o-or  smug-gler's  boooyl" 

brayed  ouf  into  the  silent  night  again,  and  must  have  been 
audible  a  mile  away. 

I  heard  the  voices  of  two,  or  it  might  be  three  others  chiding 
the  singer,  and  then  oaths  and  high  words. 

"He  has  got  at  it  again,  Captain;  we  must  down  him  or 
he'll  stretch  the  necks  o'  the  lot  on  us!"  growled  the  deeper 
of  the  two  voices  at  hand.  There  was  no  reply;  the  brawl 
was  spreading.  Horses  ceased  feeding  and  stamped. 

"Yes,  Dan,  'tis  his  third;  he's  had  his  warnings.  Go  you 
and  down  him. " 

"I  dursn't;  he's  the  better  man  I  doubts,  and  he'll  knife 
any  bloke  as  fetches  him  a  clout;  he's  said  so.  .  .  ." 

"7'd  down  him  if  he  was  my  twin  brother.  Damn  the  sot, 
he  has  queered  this  pitch ;  we  must  sling  our  hooks ! " 

The  speaker  was  upon  his  feet;  his  comrade  spoke,  "That's 
so,  but  for  Gawd's  sake,  Mister  Sam,  take  care;  what'd  we  do 
wi'out  ye?" 

"All  right,  stay  where  you  are,"  bade  the  level  voice,  and 
steps  rustled  off  upon  the  hay. 

By  this  there  was  a  fine  to-do,  the  disputants  hard  at  it 
with  their  hands,  and  the  weaker  yelping  shrilly  under  the 
blows  of  the  stronger.  Then  the  uproar  dropt  suddenly,  and 
in  the  ominous  quiet  that  followed  I  caught  that  level  officer- 
like  voice  bidding  the  gang  to  horse.  With  gruff  whispers 
the  beasts  were  bitted  and  sorted  and  moved  off  in  an  order 
and  upon  a  line  known  to  the  gang.  Last  to  go  were  the 
deep-voiced  Dan  and  he  they  called  captain,  both  of  whom 
seemed  hampered  with  more  led  horses  than  the  rest. 

[145] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITT 

When  the  main  cavalcade  had  gone,  and  the  swish  of  feet 
in  the  standing  grass  was  stilled,  the  long-drawn  snores  of 
a  sleeper  reached  me  from  somewhere  near  at  hand.  "He 
sleeps  well;  whereabouts'll  he  pick  us  up?"  "In  hell,  mate!" 
was  the  grim  reply,  jerked  in  the  interval  of  taking  up  a  girth. 
Both  chuckled  and  next  moment  were  mounted.  I  heard  the 
stirrup-leathers  stretch  and  the  squeak  of  saddlery  and  muffled 
hooves  for  a  minute,  and  then,  thinking  myself  well  rid  of  my 
company,  "Fair  traders,"  said  I;  "there  will  be  kegs  of  hoi- 
lands  on  those  led  horses;"  so  yawning  I  snuggled  down  into 
the  whispering  scented  hay  and  slept  again. 

I  was  roused  in  a  wonderful  midsummer's  dawn  by  the 
clamour  of  a  hundred  birds.  Every  creature  that  can  sing 
seemed  singing,  a  dozen  cuckoos  were  shouting  their  names, 
corncrakes  were  calling  and  chasing  one  another  around  the 
ricks,  sedgebirds  clucked  and  grated  from  some  pool  near  by, 
whilst  pheasants  drummed  and  crowed  close  at  hand.  Rubbing 
sleepy  eyes  and  ears  tingling  with  hay-seed  I  looked  upon  a 
level  bank  of  morning  fog  out  of  which,  like  rocks  in  a  tide- 
race,  stood  the  rounded  heads  of  white-thorns  far  and  near. 
I  slid  down  from  my  bed  to  find  the  ground  littered  ankle-deep 
with  hay  pulled  wastefully  from  the  ricks,  trampled  and  mired. 
My  bed-chamber  had  been  so  undermined  as  to  make  me  mar- 
vel it  had  not  fallen  and  discharged  me  among  the  cattle. 

Moving  around  the  place,  stretching  and  yawning,  the 
sounds  of  the  past  night  came  back  and  I  bethought  me  of  the 
quarrelsome  toper  left  to  sleep  off  his  carouse.  There  he 
lay,  face  down  across  a  heap  of  stover,  a  gaunt  muscular  fellow, 
bareheaded,  in  sleeved  waistcoat,  breeches  and  leggings,  his 
limbs  relaxed  in  the  abandonment  of  profound  slumber. 
The  light  improved  momentarily,  and  peering  nearer  I  was 
shocked  to  see  the  back  of  his  head  plastered  with  a  blackened 
cake  of  dried  blood.  It  seemed  to  me  that  he  lay  unnaturally 

[146] 


CHAPTER  SEVENTEEN 


still.  Approaching  on  tiptoe  I  listened  and  watched  for  a  full 
minute,  but  could  detect  no  motion  of  breathing.  The  thought 
that  he  was  smothering  possessed  me,  so,  taking  him  by  an 
arm  I  swung  him  off  his  face.  He  came  stiffly,  heavily,  and  alto- 
gether; his  eyes  were  half  opened  and  glazed,  his  jaw  fallen, 
his  ears  full  of  dried  blood.  The  man  was  dead. 

When  I  had  realised  this  thing  I  stood  like  a  stock  gazing 
open-mouthed  upon  the  waxen  vacant  face,  afraid  of  the 
corpse  which  I  had  not  feared  whilst  I  thought  it  a  living  man. 
Where  had  I  met  this  Gypsy  fellow  before  ?  those  silver  ear-rings 
amid  the  loose  black  curls,  the  Asian  nose,  the  lean  yellow 
cordage  of  the  throat  looped  in  its  scarlet  neckerchief,  seemed 
half  familiar. 

It  was  an  hour  later  that  the  fight  at  the  Barn  Inn 
crossed  my  mind,  and  with  a  jump  I  recalled  the  cat-skin 
cap  of  that  tinker  fellow  who  had  seconded  "Mister  Sam,"  and 
had  since  been  concerned  in  the  stealing  of  the  Woodhead's 
horses.  At  the  time  I  remembered  nothing,  thought  of  nothing 
but  the  patent  fact  of  a  sudden  and  violent  death. 

Nor  dared  I  touch  the  body  nor  search  the  clothing  for  what 
might  afford  a  clue.  Pity,  disgust  and  fear  shook  me  by  turns. 
This  was  no  place  for  me,  a  tramping  harvester,  to  be  found 
beside  the  corpse  of  one  dead  by  violence.  I  could  do  no  tittle 
of  good  to  the  dead  wretch  by  remaining  —  no  evidence  that 
I  could  give  to  constable  or  coroner  would  identify  men  whom 
I  had  not  so  much  as  seen. 

To  get  away  quietly  and  promptly  seemed  wisdom,  but 
whither  ?  And  in  what  direction  to  start  ?  The  fog  held  me 
bound.  I  got  to  the  top  of  the  tallest  rick,  and  found  myself 
above  it;  the  sun  was  rising,  a  glistering  orange  ball  all  out  of 
shape;  a  distant  farm  chimney  showed  above  the  bank,  but 
my  best  mark  was  the  sparkle  of  a  church  vane  some  mile  or 
more  away. 

[H7] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 


Whilst  thus  observing  I  was  myself  observed.  "Look'ee 
there!"  cried  a  voice  in  the  fog,  "this'll  be  one  on  'em!"  and 
dimly  through  the  ground  haze  I  perceived  three  men  ap- 
proaching. A  panic  seized  me;  sliding  to  the  ground  I  sped 
through  the  standing  grass  in  the  opposite  direction,  found 
and  kept  a  broad  track  beaten  by  the  hooves  of  horses,  and 
running  blindly  and  hard,  my  scythe  bumping  upon  my 
shoulder,  I  put  a  mile  between  me  and  the  scene  of  the  murder 
before  I  dropped  to  a  walk,  nor  did  it  seem  safe  to  seek  work 
until  a  long  day's  march  lay  behind  me. 


[148] 


MEMOIRS   OF  A 

PERSON  OF  QUALITY 


CHAPTER    EIGHTEEN 
THE    IRISH 


THE  passage  of  that  slow  summer  is  still  a  dream  to  me  — 
an  unhappy  dream.  Wounded  pride  paced  at  my  elbow 
as  I  walked  the  roads,  kept  step  and  stroke  with  me, 
as  I  swung  my  scythe,  couched  at  my  side  among  the  sheaves 
at  night.  That  the  first  advance  should  come  from  those  who 
had  misjudged  me  was  my  fixed  determination,  and  I  took  a 
grim  pleasure  in  the  thought  that  for  some  months  at  least  I 
should  be  beyond  the  reach  of  reproach  or  pardon. 

Just  where  my  work  took  me  I  have  never  been  able  to  make 
out  and  at  the  time  was  quite  incurious.  In  the  main  the 
weather  and  the  work  were  good;  I  lived  sparely  and  slept 
rough,  looked  upon  askance  by  the  regular  hands  of  the  farms 
whereon  I  worked,  and  herding  chiefly  with  Irish,  poor,  silent, 
sad-eyed  fellows  with  but  little  English  or  love  for  those  who 
spoke  it. 

You,  my  young  relatives,  will  be  wondering  how  a  man  of 
condition  could  so  easily  fall  so  low,  and  will  be  hardly  per- 
suaded how  readily  I  was  reconciled  to  the  absence  of  almost 
all  that  a  gentleman  reckons  essential.  You  may  take  it  from 
me,  then,  that  a  well-bred  Englishman  is  a  particularly  hardy 
animal,  and,  as  was  shown  by  not  a  few  of  our  order  under 
Lord  Wellington,  can  march  as  far,  lie  as  hard,  and  fare  as 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

coarsely  as  one  of  his  own  labourers.  I  had  served  something 
of  an  apprenticeship  to  poverty  at  Ouseby,  and  it  was  well  for 
me  that  I  had,  and  now  I  protest  that  within  ten  days  of  my 
going  upon  tramp  my  old  life  was  to  me  as  a  dream. 

•But,  as  befalls  us  in  dreams,  there  were  prickings-through 
of  earlier  consciousness. 

Thus,  my  mates  and  I  had  put  in  a  week's  work  upon  the 
home  farm  of  the  Lord  Mandeville  and  had  drawn  our  pay, 
and  were  slinging  hooks  and  bundles  before  taking  the  road, 
when  the  bailiff,  our  paymaster,  stept  to  his  house-door  and 
capped  humbly  to  a  fine,  bold-looking  man  who  was  riding 
by.  It  was  my  Lord  Mandeville  himself,  a  youngish,  sun- 
burned gentleman,  swinging  easily  to  the  canter  of  his  horse, 
cracking  his  whip  as  he  rode  in  time  to  his  catch  — 

"He  who  .  .    .  goes  to  bed  .   .   .  goes  to  bed   .   .   .   mellow." 
He    acknowledged  his   man's   bow  with   a   carelessly  genial 
nod,  but  had  not  a  glance  for  us  poor  rogues  who  had  reaped 
his  corn. 

My  Irish,  keen  genealogists  to  a  man,  scanned  the  diminish- 
ing figure  narrowly,  for  there  are  branches  of  the  stock  across 
St.  George's  Channel.  For  myself,  I  judged  him  a  horseman, 
though  riding  upon  too  slack  a  rein,  and  liked  better  the  longer 
stirrup  and  straighter  back  of  his  groom,  who  was  past  before 
I  recognized  in  him  my  old  servant  Hymus,  still  the  trooper, 
though  in  livery,  and  so  bettered  in  countenance  that  I  had  near 
missed  him.  I,  it  may  be,  had  bettered  less,  for  the  good  soul 
missed  me,  small  blame  to  him,  and  this  reversal  of  our  for- 
tunes drew  from  me  a  jolly  laugh. 

On  another  day.  on  the  Lincolnshire  side  of  the  Trent  water, 
we  met  a  cart,  escorted  by  constables  and  surrounded  by  a 
noisy  crowd  of  countrymen,  in  which  sat  a  man  in  fetters  upon 
the  ladder  and  timbers  which  were  to  form  his  own  gibbet. 
The  wretch  seemed  a  surly  fellow,  and  doubtless  deserved  his 


CHAPTER  EIGHTEEN 


doom;  his  face  was  set  towards  the  horse  and  his  driver;  the 
parson  who  exhorted  him  had  his  back  to  me,  and  was  gone  by 
before  I  knew  my  friend  Mr.  Baxter.  At  sight  of  his  passion- 
ately moving  lips  and  imploring  eyes,  the  cast  of  my  thoughts 
underwent  a  change.  I  was  shaken  in  my  inwards,  and  filled 
with  pity  for  the  felon.  My  Irish  pitied  him  too,  on  principle, 
as  one  might  say,  and  debated  whether  with  their  hooks  they 
might  not  overcome  his  guard  and  liberate  him.  The  procession 
moved  irresolutely;  "We've  ootgone  t'  sheriff,"  said  one, 
"He  were  to  overtake  us  hereabouts,"  said  another.  My 
friends  seemed  spoiling  for  an  adventure.  I  shrank  from  meet- 
ing the  eye  of  my  old  pastor,  and,  pushing  through  the  throng, 
held  upon  my  way  alone,  my  mind  full  of  the  gloomiest  re- 
flections. 

But,  within  the  minute,  and  no  farther  than  around  the  next 
corner,  I  had  passed  from  tragedy  to  comedy.  A  great  horse 
was  trotting  loose  across  a  stubble,  going  with  head  and  dock 
erect  in  mighty  good  conceit  of  himself,  as  a  horse  will  go 
that  has  but  just  thrown  his  rider.  Beside  the  way,  not  a  hun- 
dred yards  ahead  of  me,' stood  a  second  horse,  saddled  as  was 
the  first,  and  loose,  but  upon  duty;  and  in  the  midst  of  the 
road  two  men,  a  big  and  a  little  one,  who  seemed  to  have  been 
at  their  fists.  The  elder  and  portlier  of  the  two  sate  in  the  dust 
with  his  hat  and  wig  beside  him  holding  his  jaw  with  one  hand 
and  with  the  other  fumbling  in  his  fob.  His  antagonist  pouched 
what  he  handed  him.  I  had  witnessed  a  highway  robbery. 

To  see  a  man  in  years,  and  a  gentleman,  too,  so  abused,  sent 
the  blood  to  my  head.  I  gave  a  shout  and  began  to  run.  The 
thief  half  turned  to  me  a  vizarded  face  and  whipped  a  pistol 
from  his  near  holster,  but,  seeing  me  still  coming  on,  and  swing- 
ing up  my  hook  (  I  had  let  fall  my  scythe  ),  reconsidered  him- 
self, returned  his  firearm,  and,  mounting  smartly,  cantered 
easily  off  with  his  booty.  He  was  a  small  man  and  incredibly 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITT 

nimble  and  cool.  The  whole  business  had  not  taken  him  fifteen 
seconds;  it  was  the  work  of  a  genius,  the  adroitest  trick  in  the 
world. 

I  lifted  my  man  to  his  feet,  beat  the  dust  from  his  wig,  and 
helped  him  to  adjust  his  clothing.  He  clung  to  me  dizzily. 

"Aw  —  yaw!"  groaned  he,  fingering  tenderly  the  angles  of 
his  jaws.  "My  mare  shied  and  threw  me,  the  rogue  came  on 
us  so  sudden.  'Tis  that  —  Sam  Smith;  again,  I'll  lay  my  life 
'tis  he!  Who  else  would  rob  a  sheriff  on  his  way  to  a  hanging  ? 
—  and  within  hail  of  his  men,  b'Jove!  —  so  close  that  the 
villain  durst  not  use  his  pistol,  b'  George!  Curse  me,  but  my 
jaws  ache!  He  got  me  on  the  point  o'  the  chin.  He  can  box, 
too,  for  I  thought  I  knew  a  thing  or  two  myself." 

I  left  him  panting  against  an  open  gate  beside  a  rick,  swear- 
ing robustly,  and  was  presently  back  again  with  his  horse. 

"I  owe  ye  something  for  this,  at  least,"  said  he.  "For  the 
rest  'tis  'Thank-ye  for  nothing' — ye  ran  fast  enow  when  ye 
did  run,  but  ye  started  too  late,  b'Gum!"  then,  venting  the 
last  of  his  spleen  in  a  hearty  guffaw,  he  tost  me  a  guinea 
found  in  an  inner  pocket  and  followed  it  up  with  his  card, 
"Show  this  to  my  steward  if  ye  want  a  job,"  said  he. 

I  helped  him  to  horse,  and  my  companions,  who  had  neither 
seen  nor  heard  anything,  coming  up  at  the  moment,  we  parted. 
And  this  was  my  first  and  last  meeting  with  a  gentleman  to 
whom  my  father  had  promised  me  a  letter  of  introduction. 

It  was  from  one  of  these  Irish,  a  man  of  better  parts  than 
his  mates,  that  I  got  my  first  news  of  the  dreadful  state  of  the 
country  from  which  he  had  as  a  matter  of  fact  fled  in  terror. 
He  confided  to  me  how  that  his  distracted  race  was  to  have 
risen  as  one  man  upon  a  certain  day  in  the  past  spring  (  I 
think  in  March  ),  and  that  the  landing  of  an  army  of  French 
Jacobins  had  been  confidently  expected:  that  the  mutual 
jealousies  of  the  Scotch-Irish  of  the  North  and  the  Papist 


CHAPTER  EIGHTEEN 


mountainy  men,  their  neighbours,  had  paralysed  the  Ulster 
rising,  and  left  Wicklow  and  Wexford  with  their  backs  to  the 
wall. 

Of  the  harrowing  sights  he  had  witnessed,  the  tortures, 
military  executions,  fire-raisings,  plunderings,  ravishings,  and 
all  the  horrors  of  the  savagest  civil  war  between  neighbours 
and  men  of  the  same  blood  and  name  and  religion,  he  would 
tell  me  at  night  beside  a  little  fire  of  sticks,  in  the  corner  of 
some  coppice  beneath  the  great  burning  stars,  aye,  with  heart- 
breaking sobs  and  the  tears  shining  wet  upon  his  face.1 

"And  'tis  oh,  for  some  wan  to  lift  the  breast-bone  off  me 
heart!"  was  his  cry;  and  indeed,  I  have  feared  at  times  his 
sorrow  would  be  the  death  of  him. 

It  seems  that  this  revolt,  though  commonly  held  a  popish 
plot,  was  not  so,  since  numbers  of  Protestants,  both  gentle 
and  simple  (  my  companion  for  one  ),  were  actively  engaged 
in  the  rising,  and  more  were  privy  to  it. 

On  the  other  side  some  of  the  regiments  which  displayed 
most  loyalty  and  energy  in  suppressing  the  rebellion  were 
largely  composed  of  Papists,  for  instance,  the  North  Cork 
Militia,  in  which  his  two  brothers  served,  as  he  assured  me. 

This  person  and  I  kept  company  for  some  weeks,  and  I  did 
not  fail  to  observe  that  whilst  at  work  in  the  harvest-field  or 
upon  the  road  he  was  in  receipt  of  information  from  passing 
Irishmen  of  other  gangs,  information  which  only  added  to  his 
grief. 

Yet,  despite  his  desolate  situation  and  the  distressing  news 
from  his  own  country,  my  companion  had  a  power  (  which  I 
often  envied  him  )  of  laying  aside  his  misery  and  diverting 
himself  with  dancing  and  music.  I  have  seen  these  light- 

*  Mr.  Fanshawe's  original  narrative  furnished  examples  of  the  detestable  and  in- 
human barbarities  inflicted  upon  the  helpless  peasantry,  which,  being  of  too  distressing 
a  nature  to  justify  publication,  and  indeed  of  an  almost  incredible  atrocity,  we  have 
taken  the  responsibility  of  suppressing.  Eos. 

[153] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

hearted  and  light-heeled  fellows  tempted  by  the  excellence  of 
a  newly-laid  barn  floor  to  practise  their  steps,  and  having  once 
begun  they  would  jig  untiringly  to  no  better  music  than  a  com- 
rade's "lalling,"  as  their  word  for  it  is. 

In  singing,  too,  they  greatly  excelled  any  English  labouring 
men  I  ever  met  with,  for  whereas  one  of  our  yokels  rarely 
sings  except  in  his  cups,  these  Irish  possessed  a  number  of 
excellent  marching  songs  which  helped  us  along  the  road.  Of 
those  which,  being  in  their  own  language,  I  understood  not  a 
word,  but  which  they  the  more  delighted  in,  were  two  called 
"Garry  Owen"  and  "  Shan-van-Voght."  Some  of  these  songs 
went  to  the  wildest,  sweetest,  and  most  melancholy  airs  in  the 
world,  and  I  wondered  at  the  time  that  these  had  not  been  col- 
lected and  harmonised,  and  have  heard  since  that  this  has  been 
done,  and  several  of  them  set  to  English  words  by  Mr.  Moore. 

These  poor  fellows  had  about  them  a  wildness  of  appearance 
and  behaviour,  and  a  certain  haste  and  inconsequence  at  once 
diverting  and  startling.  Thus,  one  of  my  companions  having 
put  his  hat,  or  cawbeen,  by  which  he  set  great  store,  upon  a 
gate-post  beside  which  he  lay  to  sleep,  sprang  up  at  midnight, 
and  mistaking  it  for  an  enemy,  dealt  it  a  desperate  cut  with  his 
hook,  and,  perceiving  his  mistake,  gave  praise  to  God  that  he 
had  taken  it  off  before  lying  down:  "For,"  said  he,  "  had  my 
head  been  in  that  hat,  'tis  ten  to  one  I  had  laid  it  open  with 
my  hook,  and  'tis  a  dead  man  I  would  have  been  seein'  mesilf  at 
this  minute."  Yet,  with  all  their  childishness,  I  preferred  their 
society  to  that  of  the  English  gangs,  for  they  were  of  chaste 
speech  and  behaviour,  and  sober  with  me,  whatever  their 
habit  may  be  when  at  home. 

That  they  conceived  an  affection  for  me  out  of  proportion 
to  my  deserts  I  was  presently  sensible,  for  not  only  were  they 
persuaded  from  our  first  meeting  that  I  was  a  gentleman,  and  as 
such  entertained  for  me  a  singular  respect;  but,  on  the  night  I 

[154] 


CHAPTER  EIGHTEEN 


parted  from  their  company,  one  of  them  took  me  aside,  and 
speaking  for  the  rest,  said  that  they  all  were  sure  that  I  was  of 
the  old  blood,  and,  like  themselves,  unjustly  used,  and  that 
the  harvest  being  over,  and  they  about  to  depart  into  Ireland, 
could  conveniently  oblige  me  in  anything  I  had  a  mind  to. 

Coming  from  creatures  so  destitute,  this  mightily  touched 
me,  and  I  civilly  thanked  them  but  would  take  nothing  from 
them,  which  seemed  rather  to  disappoint  than  to  relieve 
their  hearts,  and  after  whispering  a  while  together  their  lead- 
er bade  me  think  again,  for  "Was  there  no  wan  I  would  like 
put  out  of  the  way  ?"  When  at  length  convinced  that  not  even  in 
this  manner  could  they  serve  me,  he  of  them  that  had  the  most 
English  made  a  leg  that  would  have  done  no  discredit  to  Mr. 
Kean,  and,  removing  his  hat,  desired  that  "The  Omnipotence 
of  Divinity  might  kape  me  in  shalubrity." 

These  poor  fellows  had  many  cant  sayings  among  themselves 
which  no  Englishmen  who  worked  with  them  understood.  One 
such,  I  remember,  a  man  would  use  to  another  who  offered  un- 
needed  help,  and  made  as  if  to  claim  a  share  of  luck  he  had  not 
earned.  To  such  a  one  would  be  said  "G'way  wid  ye  and  kill  a 
Hessian  ye'silf!"  This  I  learned  from  my  comrade  had  its 
beginning  in  an  affair  near  Wicklow,  wherein  a  squadron  of 
German  hussars,  freshly  disembarked  and  ignorant  of  the 
country,  being  surprised  in  a  boreen,  or  hollow  lane  between 
walls,  were  there  destroyed  to  the  last  man  by  the  country  folk. 
It  was  whilst  stripping  the  bodies  of  these  unfortunate  aliens 
that  the  victors  were  disturbed  by  the  up-coming  of  neighbours 
who  had  held  aloof  from  the  action,  but  desired  to  divide  the 
spoils,  and  to  these  was  first  used  the  phrase  which  has  as,  I 
hear,  passed  into  a  proverb  in  that  country. 

But  to  my  story.  I  have  said  that  my  comrade  had  news  up- 
on the  road  which  he  told  me  secretly  at  night.  It  was  upon 
an  evening  in  September  that  I  learned  from  him  of  a  battle 

[155] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITT 

which  had  been  won  by  his  cause  at  a  place  called  Castlebar, 
he  assuring  me  in  a  whisper  of  the  landing  and  success  of  the 
French  and  the  rout  of  a  large  body  of  red-coats.  "They  flid 
loike  mountain  hares,  me  son!  The  dray-goons  lid  the  field, 
bein'  mounted  men,  and  be  jabers,  they  rode  loike  as  if  the 
divil  himsilf  was  afther  thim.  Sivinity  miles  they  gallopped 
without  wance  lookin'  over  their  showlders,  and  niver  spared 
the  ground-ash  ontill  they  got  sight  o'  Athlone!  'Twas  a 
merrycle  of  a  retrate  indade,  an*  'tis  a  sorrowful  man  I  am 
this  minute  to  have  missed  the  seeing  of  it. " 

"What  regiment  would  that  be?  Did  ye  hear?"  said  I. 

"The  Fifth  Dray-goons, "  said  he,  "or  the  Carry-boy-neers 
as  some  calls  'em,"  and  I  felt  the  blood  fly  to  my  face  in  the 
darkness,  for  I  had  reckoned  myself  as  on  the  strength  of  that 
regiment  too  many  years  to  hear  it  defamed  without  grief. 

But  the  dismal  tale  was  true  in  substance  at  least;  the  story 
is  now  sufficiently  stale. 


[156] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A 

PERSON  OF   QUALITY 


CHAPTER  NINETEEN 
WHITE  MAGIC 


IT  was  whilst  companying  with  these  exiles  (  an  exile  my- 
self from  my  family  and  station,  and  so  drawn  the  more 
to    these    sad-hearted    creatures ),  that    a    thing   came 
under   my  cognisance  which   I  know  not  how  to    estimate, 
since,  although  it  actually  occurred,  or  perhaps  I  should  say 
was  permitted,  it  was  contrary  to  the  commands  of  Almighty 
God  as  revealed  in  Holy  Scripture,  and  is  also  repugnant  to 
human  reason. 

It  befell  in  this  wise.  We  had  fagged  beans  all  day  with 
the  hook  in  a  great  heat  and  closeness  upon  a  farm  by  Church 
Fenton.  Towards  sunset  thunder  rolled,  the  clouds  broke,  and 
we  were  driven  with  wet  jackets  to  our  night's  shelter  under  a 
thatched  tallatt,  closed  upon  three  sides,  but  upon  the  fourth 
open  to  the  weather.  Here,  having  with  pains  and  much  pre- 
caution made  a  small  fire  and  boiled  some  of  the  beans  which 
we  shelled  with  our  hands,  some  five  poor  Irish  and  I  were 
preparing  to  spend  the  night  uncomfortably,  for  a  wind  had 
risen,  and  the  drip  from  the  eaves  was  continually  blown  in. 

Whilst  considering  at  which  end  of  the  place  we  would  lie 
we  were  approached  by  a  party  of  gypsies  —  three  females  and  a 
young  boy  —  imploring  leave  to  share  our  shelter,  since  their  own 
fire  had  been  put  out  and  their  tent  blown  down. 

[i57l 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALirT 

I  fear  that  the  natural  repugnance  of  a  gentleman  to  the 
proximity  of  these  vagabonds  would  have  dictated  a  grudging 
reply,  but  my  comrades  were  beforehand  with  me,  and  making 
what  blaze  they  could,  proffered  hospitality  to  creatures 
poorer  and  more  wretched  even  than  themselves,  and  equally 
without  a  country  of  their  own.  I  profess  it  did  my  heart 
good  to  observe  the  mutual  respects  established  between 
people  almost  ignorant  of  one  another's  tongues,  but  with  a 
common  need  and  a  common  knowledge  of  the  shifts  of  the 
wayfarer. 

Forespent  with  their  labours  my  Irish  were  presently  snor- 
ing, but  I,  restlessly  awake,  watched  the  play  of  black,  beady 
eyes  and  the  dank  coils  of  hair  let  down  to  dry  before  the  blaze. 
The  weather  worsened  without;  seldom  have  I  seen  heavier  or 
steadier  rain.  When  the  wind  fell  the  light  of  the  fire  shone 
upon  the  underside  of  the  sheet  of  water  which  poured  from  the 
eaves,  throwing  upon  this  glistering  curtain  the  distorted  and 
wavering  shadows  of  those  between  it  and  the  blaze. 

I  had  closed  my  eyes  for  a  while,  but  reopened  them  at 
the  sound  of  a  fresh  voice,  to  find  a  fourth  female  crouching 
beside  our  guests,  attempting,  as  it  seemed,  to  engage  them  up- 
on her  behalf.  What  she  desired  I  could  imperfectly  understand, 
but  presently  the  oldest  woman,  to  whom  her  petition  seemed 
addressed,  demurred  upon  the  score  of  our  presence.  "Gor- 
gios,"  answered  the  suppliant,  "five  Pats  and  a  shy  covey,  and 
all  snoring:  go  along,  mother!" 

I  profess  I  had  not  spoken,  but  this  person  had  by  some 
means  detected  a  distinction  between  my  company  and  myself. 

Presently  the  hag  poured  into  a  cup  from  a  small  phial 
what  I  took  to  be  quicksilver,  and  arousing  the  boy  bade  him 
watch  it  intently,  holding  the  while  in  his  hands  a  man's  waist- 
coat which  the  last  comer  had  brought  with  her.  The  boy  stared 
into  the  cup,  the  beldame  whispered  and  moaned. 


CHAPTER  NINETEEN 


"My  man?  my  man?  see  him,  honey!  see  me  my  man!" 
entreated  the  visitor. 

Then  the  boy  gazing  fixedly  upon  the  bright  metal  cried  low 
that  he  saw  a  thick  mist  and  a  drove  of  horses  at  a  stand  and 
feeding  between  three  ricks  in  a  dark  meadow.  (  "Yes,  he  was 
with  horses,  that  is  right,  what  else?"  cried  the  postulant.  ) 

Next  the  boy  turning  the  rag  averred  that  he  saw  people, 
and  described  a  tall  man  with  ear-rings  and  a  red  cloth  tied 
about  his  throat.  "Lea!  Lea!"  gasped  the  listener,  and  fell  a- 
choking,  until  chidden  and  stilled  by  the  others  in  undertones. 
I  felt  my  flesh  creep  and  a  tingling  amidst  the  roots  of  my  hair. 
"They  be  fighting,"  said  the  boy,  "  the  tall  man  has  a  little  'un 
down  and  be  a-basting  'un  about  the  chops.  Ah!  —  a  foul  blow! 
behind  here!"  .  .  .  "Wat's  that?  speak!"  "Hush! 
keep  still,  woman;  let  him  see!  will  ye  ?"  'Twas  a  small  man 
did  it,"  said  the  boy,  "I  can't  see  his  face.  No,  not  him  as  was 
down;  that  'un  is  up  again  and  a-holdin'  his  ear,  so.  The  tall 
man  is  a-Iying  down  upon  the  hay;  he  has  a-put  his  hands  out, 
so.  They  leave  him  there.  The  horses  go  off  two  and  two. " 
"And  Lea?"  "The  tall  'un  is  still  a-lyin'  down.  The  red  cloth 
has  a-worked  round  to  the  back  and  covers  his  poll. " 

At  this  the  boy  gave  the  cup  to  his  granny,  hid  his  face,  and 
began  to  cry  quietly.  It  being  plain  that  no  more  was  to  be  had 
from  him  he  was  let  lie  down  again,  and  the  four  were  still 
squatted  muttering  over  the  failing  brands,  when  I  too,  after 
much  wondering,  fell  asleep. 

It  was  in  this  same  shelter,  and  I  think  upon  the  following 
day  (  for  the  weather  held  us  bound  there  half  a  week  ),  that 
I  witnessed  a  strange  piece  of  knavery,  little  thinking  that 
the  experience  of  it,  which  disgusted  me  at  the  time,  would 
ever  serve  me  and  mine  in  after  life. 

Two  little  wizened  gypsymen  of  the  tribe  drew  in  for  shelter, 
and  being  roughly  forbidden  by  the  farmer  in  fear  for  his 

[159] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITT 

thatch  to  light  their  fire,  were  debarred  their  tinkering,  and  so, 
falling  to  arts  needing  no  heat,  made  beneath  my  very  eyes 
three  sets  of  loaded  dice,  drilling  and  filling  with  lead  the 
faces  opposite  those  pricked  with  six  holes,  until  the  dies, 
skilfully  handled,  would  give  the  double-six  thrice  out  of  four 
throws.  This  done  they  sate  practising  their  rogueries,  each  in 
turn  posturing  as  the  pigeon,  and  watching  how  well  or  ill 
his  mate  substituted  the  false  dice  for  the  true,  when  his  turn 
to  throw  recurred. 


[160] 


MEMOIRS   OF  A 

PERSON  OF  QUALITY 


CHAPTER  TWENTY 
GOD  REMEMBERS  ME 


THAT  the  news  of  the  disgrace  of  my  old  regiment 
should  have  preyed  upon  my  spirits  as  it  did  may 
seem  a  thing  against  nature,  nor  can  I  myself  suf- 
ficiently explain  it,  save  that  coming  upon  me  at  a  time  when  I 
was  weakened  by  excessive  toil  during  a  fortnight  of  unsea- 
sonable heat  it  found  me  susceptible  to  injurious  influences. 

The  night  after  hearing  of  the  disgrace  and  ruin  of  my 
country  —  (  for  so  I  conceived  it;  the  glorious  progress  and 
prosperous  conclusion  of  the  war  with  the  Revolution  being  then 
hidden  from  all,  and  Englishmen  miserably  accustomed  to  see- 
ing their  armies  beaten  upon  whatever  field  they  fought,  as  had 
happened  for  thirty  years  )  —  the  night,  I  say,  after  getting 
this  news,  rain  fell,  and  I,  lying  wet,  took  a  chill,  sickened, 
and  found  myself  daily  less  able  for  my  work.  My  mind  seemed 
clouded  with  a  presage  of  misery,  my  joints  ached,  my  limbs 
grew  unnaturally  heavy.  I  loathed  the  coarse  food  which  was 
all  that  my  means  afforded  me,  and  feeling  assured  the  end  of 
my  days  was  at  hand,  determined  to  betake  myself  to  the  near- 
est town. 

My  gorge  rose  against  the  bestial  monotony  of  my  toil;  I 
would  die  a  gentleman;  and,  having  a  sudden  and  inordinate 
craving  for  news  come  upon  me,  determined  that  if  I  could 

[161! 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

appease  nothing  else  I  would  satisfy  my  hunger  to  know  what 
was  going  on  in  the  world.  If  the  French  were  indeed  coming, 
I  would  take  the  shilling  and  die  for  my  nation  as  a  common 
soldier. 

It  was  a  thick,  wet  autumn  evening  when  I  found  myself 
again  in  York.  A  sense  of  bustle  pervaded  its  usually  silent 
streets,  which  I  presently  learned  was  due  to  Assize  week, 
a  matter  which,  as  it  in  no  way  concerned  me,  I  allowed  to  slip 
from  my  mind,  and  having  dried  myself  at  the  hearth  of  a 
small  public-house  in  Walmgate,  began  asking  the  news. 

In  chusing  this  shelter  I  had  purposely  set  the  breadth 
of  the  city  between  my  new  quarters  and  my  old  lodging  in 
Skeldergate;  moreover,  as  Walmgate  is  (  or  was  then  )  one  of 
the  poorest  parts  of  the  city,  and  had  something  of  an  Irish 
quarter,  I  thought  to  hear  tidings  of  my  regiment  here  if  any- 
where. 

Only  those  who  have  spent  blank  weeks  and  months  debarred 
from  information  of  what  may  be  passing  in  the  society  in  which 
they  once  moved,  can  feel  for  me  and  understand  the  intensity 
of  this  longing.  Seafaring  men  marooned  or  cast  away  upon 
some  lonely  cay,  or  at  sea  for  months  or  years  upon  a  tiresome 
blockade,  men  in  jail,  or  in  the  mad-house,  have  doubtless  felt 
as  I.  Nor  was  I  long  before  I  heard  a  version  of  General 
Humbert's  daring  exploit  and  England's  shameful  defeat,  which 
filled  my  soul  with  bitterness. 

There  sat  beside  the  hearth  a  disabled  man,  newly  dis- 
charged from  the  forces  in  Ireland  with  papers  passing  him 
through  by  way  of  Chester  and  York  to  his  parish  in  Holderness. 
The  honest  fellow  had  served  in  Lord  Roden's  horse  and  had 
seen  the  rout  at  Castlebar,  where,  as  he  said,  and  said  truly 
from  all  accounts,  his  regiment  behaved  well  but  was  ill  sec- 
onded. 

"Militia  and  Blue  Boys  took  straight  off  the  plough-taail, 

[162] 


CHAPTER 


what  would  ye  'ave  ?"  asked  he,  appealing  to  a  circle  of  sym- 
pathising hearers.  "The  blame  fools  shot  away  their  ramrods 
wi'  their  second  volley,  and  then  upped  and  runned.  D  —  n 
all  such  fools,  say  I,  but  what  would  ye  'ave  ?  They'd  never 
larned  their  drill.  They  Dragoon  Guards  was  another  matter,'* 
his  lean  face  darkened  in  the  flickering  firelight  to  a  terrible 
sternness.  "They  called  theirselves  regulars;  they'd  lain  wi' 
Hus,"  (  a  circumstance  which  deepened  their  disgrace  in  his 
eyes  ).  "But,  Lord!  what  horficers!  There  was  a  brace  in  the 
troop  I  knew  best,  a  Mr.  Wallop  and  another  —  bah!  They 
cried  like  women  when  the  French  shot  plumped  into  the 
squadron  and  passed  on  their  pigeon-livered  complaint  to  the 
troopers!  .  .  .  'Twas  Wallop's  screamin'  'Threes  about  7 
that  upset  the  apple-cart.  His  troop  fairly  bolted,  with 
himself  leadin'.  Devilish  well-mounted  they  must  ha'  bin,  for 
he  had  sixty  men  with  him  when  he  reached  Athlone, 
twenty-seven  hours  after  the  battle  and  over  sixty  miles  away! 

"Broke  ?  yes,  all  broke.  Ne'er  a  man  as  ran  in  'Castlebar 
Races'  shall  serve  his  King  again.  'Incapable  of  bearin'  His 
Majesty's  commission,'  that's  the  word  for  the  horficers,  and 
the  troopers  be  disbanded,  hoofed  out,  we  calls  it !  Just  lemme 
see  a  cove  as  rode  in  the  Funky  Fifth  and  I'll  hoof  him  on  my 
own,  for  'is  shir  kin'  cost  me  a  'and!  Old  England's  done  for; 
rollin'  downhill  to  the  devil  as  fast  as  she  can  go,  an'  thaat's 
the  fac,  mates!" 

So  my  last  chance  of  reinstatement  was  gone,  for  I  rightly 
judged  that  a  gentleman  whose  name  had  been  borne  for  seven 
years  upon  the  rolls  of  a  regiment  which  disgraced  itself  would 
be  held  responsible  for  some  share  of  its  misconduct. 

Now  that  this  chance  was  irrevocably  lost  I  found  that 
despite  my  disgust  with  my  mess  I  had  cherished  throughout 
my  wanderings  and  misfortunes  a  hope  of  rejoining.  How  this 
was  to  have  been  compassed  I  had  not  troubled  to  enquire,  nor 

[163] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

considered  that  my  absence  might  embarrass  efforts  on  my 
behalf. 

I  would  punish  my  friends  for  casting  me  off  by  serving 
them  in  the  same  way  in  turn,  and  had  pictured  myself  sought 
for  and  entreated.  I  had  kept  ( in  imagination  )  my  proud  re- 
serve, maintained  my  innocence,  and  only  upon  strong  per- 
suasion, and  upon  my  own  terms,  had  consented  to  resume 
my  position  in  His  Majesty's  service  ! 

In  a  word,  I  had  shewn  myself  as  headstrong  and  ill-con- 
ditioned a  young  cub  as  you  shall  find  in  a  long  life's  inter- 
course with  sinful  humanity. 

Such  had  been  my  scheme:  but  it  was  crossed,  and  I  a  ruined 
man  before  I  had  well  begun  my  life,  innocently  involved  in 
the  ignominy  of  the  one  unworthy  regiment  in  His  Majesty's 
forces,  disgraced  forever  and  undone. 

My  head  throbbed,  my  cough  shook  me;  it  did  not  seem 
worth  while  to  go  on  like  this.  Gradually  a  purpose  and  plan 
formed  within  me.  I  played  with  it  a  while,  put  it  from  me, 
only  to  find  it  returning  the  stronger  and  reinforced  with 
better  arguments. 

I  paid  my  score,  gave  money  to  the  crippled  soldier,  and 
passing  out  into  the  foggy  dusk  found  a  barber's  shop  by  its 
pole  and  dish,  and  spent  my  last  coin  in  getting  a  clean  shave. 
The  remembrance  of  the  blue  stubbly  cheek  of  the  dead  gypsy 
had  recurred  to  me;  I  would  at  least  look  a  gentleman. 

Knowing  the  city  fairly  I  made  my  way  toward  the  river 
where  I  thought  it  most  secluded,  The  cobbl^  stones  of  the 
Market  Place  gleamed  dimly  where  a  train-oil  lamp  hung; 
elsewhere  it  was  dangerous  walking.  Bleak  Street  was  better 
lit,  for  every  window  of  the  Mansion  House  blazed,  and  by  the 
footmen  and  link-boys  I  guessed  some  feast  was  forward.  Len- 
dal  was  as  the  mouth  of  a  cavern,  a  cold  that  chilled,  a  darkness 
that  might  be  felt.  The  river  fog  had  invaded  this  narrow 

[164] 


CHAPTER  TPTENTT 


thoroughfare  and  filled  it  from  end  to  end.  Keeping  to  my 
right  I  felt  my  way  step  by  step  along  the  house  fronts  until 
a  horse-block  caught  my  instep  and  brought  me  to  the  ground. 
I  rose  weakly,  blinded  by  a  sudden  brilliance.  The  door  of 
the  house  upon  the  steps  of  which  I  had  fallen  was  closing 
behind  a  gentleman  who  descended,  heavily  cloaked  and  halting 
upon  a  cane,  lighted  by  his  footmen  with  links.  His  face  was 
in  darkness,  and  so  thick  was  the  night  and  so  murky  the  way, 
he  had  near  fallen  over  me  as  I  rose.  My  getting  to  my  feet 
and  his  descent  brought  both  faces  within  the  circle  of  light. 
The  countenance  I  saw  was  the  countenance  of  my  father,  but 
sterner,  paler  and  sharper,  yet,  for  one  moment  I  thought  it  was 
he,  and  I  doubt  not  betrayed  recognition.  On  his  part  the 
gentleman  regarded  me  with  a  sudden  displeasure  and  surprise. 
"What  d'ye  want,  sirrah  ?"  The  voice  was  not  my  father's,  and 
even  as  he  spoke  his  eye  contracted,  the  light  in  it  shifting 
as  it  passed  from  my  face  to  my  coarse  clothing,  and  remarked 
my  air  of  want  and  toil.  He  stood  gazing  upon  me  for  a  mo- 
ment supported  by  his  cane.  "I  beg  your  pardon,  my  man,  you 
startled  me.  Is  ...  is  there  —  "  he  hesitated,  and  some 
compunction  moving  him,  added  with  a  ring  of  feeling,  "You 
seem  in  need  of  relief:  take  this. "  He  dipped  in  his  fob  and 
proffered  me  silver. 

But  I,  who  thought  myself  beyond  help  of  my  kind,  answered 
never  a  word;  I  knew  who  the  man  must  be,  and  would  take 
nothing  from  his  hands,  so  stepping  from  the  causeway  to 
the  kennel,  I  let  him  and  his  men  pass,  and  crossing  the  lane 
thrust  on  faster  into  the  thick  darkness,  seeking  an  entry  I 
remembered  leading  down  to  a  paved  court  with  trees,  bounded 
by  a  low  parapet  wall,  pierced  by  stone  steps  descending  to  deep 
water.  It  was  a  pretty  place  enough  in  summer  I  make  no  doubt, 
and  used  by  boating  parties  and  the  Lendal  ferry-men,  but 
upon  an  autumn  night  would  be  lonely  enough  for  my  purpose. 

[165] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

I  found  the  entry,  the  vault  gave  back  my  footfall,  I  heard 
the  fog  dripping  from  the  boughs  of  the  trees  in  the  court  and 
the  water  lapping  at  the  stairs.  Here  was  the  place,  the  end  of 
my  travels.  I  had  but  to  leap  far  enough,  for  I  could  not  swim; 
'twould  be  at  the  worst  but  a  three  minutes'  matter  of  cold  and 
distress,  and  then  the  long  sleep  or  some  new  illumination  and 
a  fresh  start. 

I  clenched  my  hands  for  the  run  and  spoke  beneath  my  breath, 
"Oh  God,  if  there  be  a  God,  give  me  a  better  chance  next  time!" 

"He  will,  He  Joes!"  a  man's  voice  replied,  a  man's  form 
barred  my  way,  his  face  close  to  mine,  his  warm  breath  upon 
my  cold  cheek,  his  hand  against  my  breast. 

I  caught  my  breath  with  a  sob,  but  the  life  in  me  had  run  too 
low  for  starting.  I  had  gone  apart  from  my  kind  as  a  dying 
beast  leaves  the  herd,  and  thought  myself  utterly  alone. 
The  presence  of  another  took  me  mightily  aback.  I  think  I 
staggered  as  from  a  buffet,  a  movement  which  the  stranger 
^misunderstood,  for  his  hands  tightened  upon  my  coat.  Mine 
dropt,  I  stood  thus,  shaking,  bewildered,  my  mind  spinning 
wearily  like  a  drunken  top.  As  for  what  this  stranger  had  said 
I  made  nothing  of  it  as  yet;  it  was  his  being  where  he  was  that 
so  wholly  confused  and  unmanned  me.  I  had  made,  as  I 
thought,  my  adieux  to  the  world,  and  was  unprepared  with  an 
answer,  and  ere  I  had  opened  my  lips  he  was  speaking  again, 
quietly  and  low,  and  with  a  relish  of  happiness  in  his  tone,  as 
a  man  might  who  had  done  what  he  had  set  out  to  do.  "Thou 
art  the  one  I  am  sent  for.  Thou  art  to  come  with  me,"  he  said 
in  a  tone  of  gentle  but  absolute  conviction. 

"Who  are  ye!"  I  gasped,  as  amazed  and  changed  as  if  I  had 
already  plunged  and  reached  a  fresh  world. 

"I  am  a  friend;  thy  friend.  Thou  canst  believe  so  much? 
I  was  sent  to  this  city  and  to  this  place  to  meet  thee.  Wilt 
thou  believe  that  too  ?" 

[166] 


CHAPTER  TWENTY 


"No,  that  cannot  be,"  said  I,  "though  I  think  you  mean 
truly  and  mean  well.  I  was  to  die  here.  I'll  not  deny  it,  and 
you  overheard  me,  too;  but  no  soul  knew  my  resolve,  not  God 
Himself,  for  if  there  be  a  God  He  has  long  forgotten  me." 

"No,  no,  indeed  thou  art  wrong:  listen,  and  then  judge  for 
thyself.  My  home  is  fifteen  miles  from  here.  We  are  millers.  1 
was  at  my  business  this  afternoon  when  a  voice  said  to  me  clear- 
ly 'Ride  west ! '  I  looked  around  thinking  my  father  had  spoken, 
but  the  room  was  empty,  and  he  and  the  men  in  the  wheel-house, 
So  I  stayed  my  work  and  listened,  and  again  the  voice  said* 
'Ride  west!'  and  at  that  I  rose  and  went  to  the  house  and  told 
my  mother,  who  bade  me  rest  a  while  with  her  in  silence;  and 
when  a  third  time  I  was  bidden  she  bade  make  ready  some- 
thing for  me  to  eat  whilst  I  put-to  the  horse.  'It  may  be,'  said 
she,  'this  is  to  try  thy  faith,  or  it  may  be  thy  Heavenly  Father 
is  sending  thee  to  bring  to  Him  one  that  is  lost." 

"So  I  ate  and  got  into  the  gig,  and  my  mother  watched  me 

go-" 

"But  how  came  you  here,  and  now?"  I  whispered,  a 
great  awe  coming  over  me,  such  as  I  had  never  felt;  for  in  all 
my  previous  religious  experience  it  was  I  who  had  striven  and 
sought  and  yearned  for  the  great  veiled  Deity,  terribly  dis- 
tant and  inscrutable;  but,  if  what  this  man  said  were  true,  it 
was  the  Unknown  God  (  although  neglected  and  defied  )  Who 
had  followed  and  found  me! 

The  young  man  was  holding  my  hands,  there  was  warmth 
and  comfort  in  the  touch,  and  when  he  spoke  again  his  voice 
was  pleasant  and  as  honest  as  the  note  of  a  bell. 

"I  let  the  horse  take  his  own  pace,"  he  said,  "for  I  had 
no  light  upon  my  journey,  whether  the  miles  would  be  many  or 
few;  so  driving  in  the  afternoon  without  haste  I  saw  against 
the  sunset  the  minster  towers,  and  then  the  rain  began  and  I 
entered  the  city  by  Monk  Bar  and  stabled  the  horse  with  a 

[167] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

friend.  But  I  could  not  eat  nor  rest  for  my  concern,  so  I  walked 
slowly,  and  waiting  upon  the  Lord,  until  by  streets  and  lanes 
that  in  this  fog  I  know  not  by  name,  I  was  led  to  this  place,  and, 
finding  no  outlet,  I  stayed. " 

"And  have  ye  waited  for  me  long?" 

"Not  a  minute,  as  I  think,"  said  he,  "for  hardly  had  I  made 
out  the  river  wall  and  this  stair  when  I  heard  thy  feet  in  the 
entry  and  knew  that  I  had  come  not  in  vain.  And  now  ? "  he 
asked  and  waited. 

"God  has  not  forgotten  me  I"  I  cried,  and  fell  upon  my  knees 
on  the  wet  stones  and  wept  as  though  I  were  again  a  child. 

He  stood  over  me,  ttill  holding  my  hands.  Great  was  his 
patience  and  womanlike  his  gentleness.  "Thou  hast  no  home  ? 
Then  let  us  be  going.  No,  do  not  be  at  any  pains  to  explain :  say 
nothing;  but,  if  thou  wilt  be  advised,  be  giving  thanks  to  Him 
whom  thou  hast  found  at  last,  although  He  has  never  lost  thee. " 

So  saying,  he  raised  me  and  gave  me  his  arm,  and  had  me 
through  the  black,  fog-bound  streets  to  the  house  of  some 
people  of  his  persuasion,  Moorhouse  by  name,  whose  pie-shop 
stands  on  the  south  side  of  the  street,  midway  between  Bootham 
Bar  and  the  Shambles.  This  man  and  his  wife,  plain  clean 
people  of  the  gentlest  address  and  of  incredibly  few  words, 
accepted  me,  a  wet  and  ragged  wayfarer,  plastered  with  the  mud 
of  thirty  miles  of  turnpike,  as  though  I  had  been  some  person 
of  distinction. 

A  room  with  a  double  bed  (  my  mind  misgives  me  that  it 
was  their  own  )  was  made  over  to  my  preserver  and  me;  where 
a  tub  of  hot  water  set  upon  a  sheet,  soap  and  plentiful  towelling, 
let  me  feel  once  more  the  delight  of  a  clean  skin.  The  sight  of 
that  great,  soft,  white  bed  filled  me  with  homely  emotions.  The 
swift  passage  of  a  bright  warming-pan  between  newly-spread 
sheets,  the  snowy  pillcw-case,  its  creases  fresh  from  the  press, 
all  smacked  of  my  old  life. 

[168] 


CHAPTER  TWENTY 


But  even  these  pleasures  palled  beneath  the  load  of  weariness 
that  weighed  me  down.  My  friend,  whose  name  I  had  not  yet 
asked,  so  incurious  had  I  grown,  flitted  silently  in  and  out  with 
all  that  I  needed,  was  upon  his  knees  one  minute  with  flint 
and  steel  assisting  the  birth  of  a  fire,  and  the  next  was  at  my 
bedside  with  a  bowl  of  hot  broth  from  below,  and  when  I 
had  taken  this  down,  what  did  he  but  put  out  the  light  and  sit 
beside  me  through  hour  after  hour  of  silent  darkness,  holding 
my  hand  ?  I  dozed  or  waked  with  a  cry,  but  always  found  him 
there.  Once  when  midnight  boomed  from  the  minster  near  at 
hand  I  asked  what  day  it  was.  "The  first  of  tenth  month,"  said 
he,  "October,  as  thou  wouldst  say.  A  new  day  for  thee,  my 
friend,  and  the  beginning  of  a  new  life,"  and  added  a  text 
which  had  been  a  favourite  with  Mr.  Baxter,  "  This  month 
shall  be  unto  you  the  beginning  of  months." 

"That  may  well  be,  since  God  has  not  forgotten  me!"  I 
said,  and  slept,  he  still  holding  my  hand. 

For  the  next  ten  days  I  lay  aching  and  turning  myself  from 
side  to  side,  as  one  or  the  other  posture  became  unbearable  or 
gave  promise  of  relief.  Nor  was  my  mind  yet  at  rest,  for,  al- 
though whilst  waking  I  hugged  to  my  heart  with  wonder  and 
gratitude  this  new  sense  of  God's  fatherly  care  for  me,  yet  no 
sooner  did  I  drop  into  an  uneasy  doze  than  I  was  presently 
struggling  in  the  cold  water,  and  felt  the  hands  of  fiends  upon 
my  legs  dragging  me  down. 

My  hosts  dosed  me  with  herb  tea  and  possets,  heaping 
clothes  upon  me  and  keeping  up  a  fire  to  promote  sweating,  but 
the  hallucination  lay  deeper  and  yielded  only  to  my  friend's 
treatment.  He  taught  me  a  text,  and  bade  me  fall  asleep  with 
it  upon  my  lips;  it  was  this: — 

"/  will  lay  me  down  in  peace  and  sleep,  for  Thou,  Lord  only 
makest  me  to  dwell  in  safety." 

Moreover,  he  would  attend  me  whilst  I  slept,  nor  do  I  think 

[169] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

he  left  the  house  during  those  ten  days  and  nights,  but  was  al- 
most constant  at  my  bedside,  measuring  off  my  potions,  rubbing 
oils  into  my  joints  to  allay  the  pains,  feeding  me  and  enter- 
taining me  with  such  speech  as  I  could  bear. 

Upon  the  evening  of  the  ninth  day  I  was  easier  and  more 
my  own  man  again,  and,  before  sleeping,  besought  him  to  con- 
sider himself  (  which  showed  my  convalescence,  for  sickness 
is  naturally  selfish  ).  "What  is  it  like  outside  ?"  I  asked,  feeling 
a  renewal  of  interest  in  the  world  I  had  so  nearly  left.  "Wet 
and  very  thick,"  said  he,  "but  'twill  mend  by  the  morning,  I 
think,  and  to-morrow  we  will  travel  if  thou  art  well  enough!"  I 
smiled  weakly  and  slept.  All  he  did  was  right,  I  felt. 

When  I  awoke  it  was  broad  daylight;  my  friend  was  gone. 
I  doubt  if  he  had  taken  off  his  clothes  all  night. 

Much  refreshed,  I  looked  about  me  intending  to  rise.  My 
foul  rags  had  vanished  —  up  the  kitchen  chimney,  I  suspect; 
they  were  indeed  past  mending  with  hard  usage  in  all  weathers, 
and  the  rough  washing  I  was  used  to  give  them  on  Sundays. 
The  poor  contents  of  the  pockets,  a  knife  and  some  papers, 
lay  upon  a  stool.  Upon  the  bedside  chair  I  found  a  complete 
outfit  from  my  host's  wardrobe,  and  he  being  a  tall  man  I  had 
naught  to  complain  of  as  to  size,  nor  was  I  disposed  to  quarrel 
with  cut  and  colour,  although  thus  converted  at  short  notice 
to  Quakerism  —  so  far  as  outward  seeming. 

"Hoo  doost?"  asked  my  kindly,  unsmiling  hostess,  at  my 
bedside,  "Wilt  raise,  or  tak  tha  bit  a-bed  ?" 

I  would  put  her  to  no  such  trouble  and  was  quickly  down- 
stairs. Her  husband  and  she  had  already  eaten,  as  had  my 
friend,  whom  they  spoke  of  as  Abel  (  "Abel's  a-wattering 
t'  horse"  ).  With  one  eye  upon  the  shop  they  waited  upon  me 
hand  and  foot,  and  could  not  do  enough  for  me  to  satisfy  their 
passion  for  service. 

"Madam!"  I  cried  at  length,  when  I  could  eat  and  drink  no 

[170] 


CHAPTER  TWENTY 


more,  and,  though  myself  contented,  had  plainly  failed  to  con- 
tent them;  "madam,  for  whom  then  do  ye  take  me,  that  ye 
treat  me  so  ? " 

"For  a  stra-anger,  surely,"  said  she. 

"Yes,  yes,  'for  I  was  a  stranger  and  ye  took  me  in,  naked 
and  ye  clothed  me.  I  was  on-hungered  and  ye  gave  me 
meat,'  "  and  at  that  word  I  choked  and  sat  back  with  swimming 
eyes,  and  features  all  a-work,  for  I  was  yet  weak  and  shaken. 

"Eh,  thou  knaws  t'scripture,  doost  tha  ?  'Tis  a  good  know- 
ledge. Doost  knaw  this,  'Wherewithal  shall  a  yoong  man 
cleanse  bis  waayf"  'T'knaws  t'answer,  mebbe?" 

"I  do,"  said  I,  and,  unwilling  to  let  these  good  creatures 
think  worse  of  me  than  the  truth,  I  added,  "  'Twas  not  ill- 
living  brought  me  to  this,  madam;  I  was  stricken  down  whilst 
harvesting. " 

"Saay  na  more,  laad;  tha  Father  in  Heaven's  tha  joodge, 
not  I,  who'm  nobbut  a  poor  creature,  and  as  full  of  infirmity 
as  thaself.  Where's  tha  moother?" 

But  at  this  moment  her  husband  put  in  his  head  saying  the 
horse  was  at  the  door,  and  wrapping  me  against  the  wind  in  a 
great  whitey-brown  frieze  driving-coat,  which  "Abel"  undertook 
to  return  when  next  he  called  for  orders,  we  took  our  places. 

"Stick  to  Abel  here,  and  thou'll't  not  go  far  amiss!"  said 
that  man  of  few  words,  my  host,  giving  me  his  hand  with  a 
large  simple  gesture. 


MEMOIRS  OF  A 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-ONE 
MY  SECOND  HOME 


OF  the  driving  away  from  York  city  I  remember  but  one 
scene,  and  that  at  our  setting  forth.  My  companion 
must  needs  pull  up  at  a  street's  end,  (or gate's  end, 
as  they  say  in  the  north  )  to  let  pass  a  string  of  carts  moving 
slowly  in  the  midst  of  a  disorderly  crowd  with  much  yelling. 
"These  will  be  the  criminals  sentenced  to  the  lash,"  said  Abel, 
"their  journey  around  the  city  begins  at  Whipma-Whopma 
Gate;  poor  things!" 

"Then  the  autumn  assizes  are  over,"  I  remarked,  and  the 
sorry  sight  impressed  the  fact  and  the  date  upon  my  memory  as 
will  appear  later. 

You  will  not  have  failed  to  observe  that  the  constant  re- 
sult of  emotion,  whether  acutely  painful  or  pleasurable,  is  a 
period  of  depression  during  which  one  has  but  limited  power  of 
sensation.  Nature  cannot  live  for  long  at  its  extreme,  and  exacts 
repose  commensurate  with  its  exertion. 

So,  here  was  I,  who  for  weeks  past  had  overtaxed  body  and 
mind,  sitting  vacant  and  passive  beside  a  man  whose  Christian 
name  sufficed  me,  being  taken  I  knew  not  whither,  to  what  per- 
sons or  purposes  I  cared  not  to  know.  Only  across  the  grey 
background  of  a  jaded  spirit  floated  at  intervals  a  soft  little 
face,  a  face  with  compressed  red  lips  and  great  grey  eyes  gazing 

[172] 


CHAPTER  r  WENT T -ONE 


straight  into  mine  with  an  air  of  unconscious  interest  and 
kindness.  It  was  the  face  that  had  haunted  me  all  the  summer 
through,  that  had  come  between  me  and  the  alehouse  door,  aye, 
and  worse.  I  would  not  sully  that  sweet  image  of  childish 
holiness.  To  me  that  little  face  had  stood  for  much  that  his 
saint's  picture  stands  for  to  the  Papist.  "God  is  very  high 
and  very  far  off,"  says  he," but  Saint  Brigid  is  human,  and  loving, 
and  near!"  So  I,  having  lost  my  God,  had  kept  my  faith  true 
to  the  best  thing  He  had  made. 

Why  the  little  face  should  concede  me  more  of  its  company 
to-day,  and  upon  this  road,  and  with  this  companion,  than  upon 
the  ways  and  with  the  wayfarers  of  past  weeks,  I  did  not  tax  a 
wearied  head  to  enquire.  What  was  the  clue  —  the  connection  ? 
Was  it  the  horse  —  a  strawberry  roan  ?  I  recalled  passages  in 
my  past  life  —  my  head  warned  me  off.  No  thinking!  She  was 
with  me:  'twas  enough. 

I  travelled  as  in  a  waking  dream  through  the  wide  green 
plain  of  York;  a  sameness  of  pastures  from  which  the  Tees- 
water  oxen  were  beginning  to  oust  the  brindled  longhorns,  as 
these  a  century  earlier  had  ousted  the  black  native  breed.  End- 
less checquer-work  of  high  blackthorn  hedges  slid  past  us, 
intersecting  the  green  expanse,  as  we  rolled  on  towards  the 
edge  of  the  low  hills  north-westward,  my  comrade  as  silent 
as  myself. 

Never  had  I  companied  with  so  young  a  man  with  such  a 
command  of  silence.  Once  and  again  leaning  back  in  my  seat 
I  saw  from  the  tail  of  my  eye  that  he  was  little  if  at  all  my 
senior.  He  seemed  lightly  built,  dark,  and  beneath  the  middle 
height,  with  fine,  pale,  clear-cut  features,  grave  and  stead- 
fast in  expression,  a  little  sad  perhaps,  as  are  the  faces  of 
those  who  have  lost  a  friend. 

All  which  afforded  me  food  for  lazy  reverie,  if  not  for  words, 
out  of  which  listlessness  I  was  roused  by  our  coming  to  a  hamlet 

[173] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITT 

among  more  broken  or  rolling  country.  An  ivied,  ill-kept  church, 
and  houses  of  various  degrees:  a  forge,  an  inn,  came  successively 
into  view;  a  parish  boundary-stone  told  me  this  was  Milton- 
on-Derwent,  to  which  in  further  testimony  a  grey,  four-square 
building  appeared,  a  mill  astride  its  river.  A  farm-steading 
and  house  stood  near  amidst  yew  hedges  and  yellowing 
garden-trees,  through  which  we  drove  to  a  porch.  This  then  was 
our  journey's  end. 

I  roused  myself  and  was  about  to  speak;  my  friend  turned  to 
me  a  face  lit  with  brotherliness,  his  lips  parted  for  speech,  but, 
as  the  wheels  stayed,  the  house-door  opened,  and  framed 
against  the  darkness  within  stood  a  young  girl  whose  face  was 
the  face  of  my  dreams,  the  face  that  I  had  bashfully  and  privily 
perused  as  I  stood  at  the  horse's  head  in  Ouseby  Street,  the 
face  which  I  had  seen  set  in  terror  and  melted  in  gentle  thank- 
fulness. But,  how  came  she  here  ?  This  riddle  was  not  long  in 
the  reading,  for  close  behind  her  pressed  none  other  than  Mr. 
Ellwood. 

"Father,  we  have  come  home,"  said  Mr.  Abel  and  lighted 
down.  His  father  shewed  no  surprise;  saying  somewhat  in  an 
undertone  to  his  daughter,  whose  eyes  shone  in  her  head  with 
intelligence,  he  gently  dismissed  her  to  her  preparations,  and 
approached  me  with  the  deliberate  frankness  that  marks  the 
best  of  his  sect.  Browner  I  was,  and  leaner,  but  he  knew  me 
at  once.  "We  owe  thee  much  my  friend,  George  —  is  it 
not  ?  We  make  thee  welcome  here. "  He  took  my  hand  and 
with  the  finest  courtesy  led  me  in  and  assisted  me  —  cramped 
with  long  sitting  in  the  cold  —  to  unwrap.  He  asked  no  ques- 
tions, but  set  me  beside  a  fire  until  some  meal  should  be  spread, 
and,  having  in  the  meantime,  as  I  suppose,  learnt  something 
of  my  ill-health  and  destitution,  made  me  for  the  time  —  in- 
credible as  it  may  seem,  one  of  his  household. 

The  lady  of  the  house,  to  whom  I  was  presented  later,  was 

[174] 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-ONE 


an  invalid,  almost  confined  to  her  wheeled  chair,  but  as  free 
from  valetudinarian  whims  and  ways  as  the  soundest  woman 
alive.  Her  hands  were  never  idle,  and  her  mind  unceasingly 
at  work  for  others. 

Her  daughter,  Miss  Phoebe,  my  little  mistress,  as  I  soon 
learned  to  call  her,  was  feet,  hands,  ears  and  eyes  to  her 
mother's  infirmity;  her's  were  the  softest  tongue,  the  deft- 
est fingers,  the  lightest  heels  of  any  that  ever  I  have  encountered 
in  all  the  long  span  of  my  life.  God  bless  her! 

So,  too,  did  my  friend,  Abel,  serve  his  father;  what  fore- 
thought, silent  assiduity,  pleasant  grace  and  practical  knowledge 
that  finely  shaped  young  head  of  four-and-twenty  contained! 

Ah!  what  a  family  life  was  here;  such  as  I  had  never  conceived 
of.  Wise  economy  went  hand  in  hand  with  plain  abundance. 
A  house  furnished  and  maintained  in  its  every  room  for  cleanly 
use  and  nothing  for  vainglory.  All  went  therein  like  the  touch 
and  kiss  and  mutual  pressure  and  help  of  well-fitted  gear. 
How  may  I  hope  to  show  you  the  sweet,  orderly  repose,  the 
well-placed  confidence,  the  tacit  industry  of  working  hours, 
the  genial  relaxations  when  the  day's  labour  was  done  ?  How 
make  you  to  understand  the  sense  of  love  and  of  kindliness  that 
pervaded  all,  the  brooding  Presence  of  the  Holiest  which  rested 
upon  that  household,  little  spoken  of,  never  forgotten,  always 
felt? 

Before  a  week  was  over  I  found  myself  established  in  a 
lodging  hard  by,  in  two  rooms  of  the  old  mill  house,  indeed, 
above  the  office,  and  next  door  to  Jeacocke,  the  foreman/whose 
wife  seemed  well  pleased  to  do  all  for  me  that  I  needed.  My 
breakfast  and  midday  meal  —  (  which  we  called  dinner  and 
you  call  luncheon  )  —  I  took  in  my  room,  my  supper  was 
always  eaten  at  my  master's  table,  in  whose  house  I  was  free 
to  spend  my  evenings  and  my  First  Days,  as  the  Friends  call 
Sunday. 

[175] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITT 

At  that  table,  under  the  evening  lamp,  my  education  was  com- 
pleted, or  more  truly  begun,  for  little  of  all  I  had  previously 
learned  made  for  either  my  wisdom  or  happiness.  With  the 
clearing  of  the  supper-board  dawned  the  brightest  hours  of  the 
day.  Our  business  was  resolutely  laid  aside,  and  some  good 
book  read  aloud  by  the  men  in  turn,  whilst  the  ladies'  needles 
clicked  and  the  stockings  lengthened. 

At  this  exercise  —  as  delightful  as  it  was  rational  —  I 
essayed  to  bear  my  part,  but  not  even  the  gentle  forbearance 
of  my  audience  could  hide  from  me  that  my  apprehension  and 
delivery  were  a  wrong  to  the  author  and  a  grief  to  their  ears. 
Returning  the  book  to  Abel  with  inward  mortification,  I  formed 
a  resolve  which  my  mistresses  discovering  helped  me  to  put 
into  execution. 

Such  nights  of  the  week  as  my  masters  lay  from  home  upon 
their  journeys  were  devoted  to  my  instruction.  I,  book  in 
hand,  read  prose  or  declaimed  verse  beneath  the  eyes  of  kindly 
tutors,  Mrs.  Ellwood  smiling  approval  or  censure  from  her 
wheel-chair;  whilst  Phoebe  sat  or  stood  beside  me  whispering 
hints  and  corrections,  and  schooling  me  by  play  of  hand  and 
head  and  inclination  of  supple  young  body  in  the  primary 
arts  of  elocution. 

"Chin  up,  George!"  (  her  finger  was  beneath  it).  "Shoulders 
back,  so!  thou  art  poking  sadly;  no,  not  hand  in  pocket,  but 
thus,  extended  gracefully;  book  held  lightly  in  left,  now  be- 
gin afresh. " 

Both  these  ladies  read  and  spoke  with  a  naturalness  and 
pleasant  gravity  which  was  a  perpetual  wonder  and  delight  to 
me;  an  accomplishment  common  among  the  Friends,  who 
devote  the  time  which  we  lose  amid  the  intricacies  of  dead 
languages  to  acquiring  a  mastery  over  their  own. 

"Oh,  I  shall  never,  never  prove  a  reader!"  I  cried  once 
in  despair,  "and  as  for  making  a  speech  —  !" 


CHAPTER  TWENTY -ONE 


"Then  how  wilt  thou  get  thyself  a  wife?"  asked  my  little 
mistress  demurely.  "When  that  time  comes  to  one  of  our  men 
he  has  to  rise  in  full  meeting  and  taking  his  intended  by  the 
hand,  so,  'he  says  —  may  I  tell  him,  mother  ?  —  'In  the 
fear  of  the  Lord  and  the  presence  of  this  assembly  I  take  this 
my  friend'  ( whatever  her  name  is )  'to  be  my  wife, 
promising,  by  Divine  assistance,  to  be  unto  her  a  faithful  and 
loving  husband  until  it  shall  please  the  Lord  by  death  to 
separate  us!" 

She  stood  a-tiptoe,  holding  my  hand  as  she  recited  this 
declaration,  facing  her  mother  and  giving  the  appropriate 
emphasis  to  each  clause,  acting  her  part  as  groom  to  my  seventy- 
five  inches  of  embarrassed  maidenhood,  the  quaintest,  most  in- 
nocent piece  of  unconscious  humour  in  the  world.  "After  I 
have  finished  comes  thy  turn :  thou  promises  all  that  a  wife  should 
promise,  and  then  we  sign  our  names  to  the  marriage  certificate 
and  so  we  are  married  —  just  think!  That's  all!  Isn't  it  simple  ? 
All  but  the  little  speeches,  and  I  always  must  pity  the  man,  he 
has  to  break  the  silence  —  speaks  first,  thou  sees.  After  the  sign- 
ing we  sit"  (  she  released  my  fingers  ),  "the  meeting  is  quietly 
gathered,  and  after  a  pause  some  minister  revives  a  passage  of 
Scripture  or  appears  in  prayer." 

"Is  this  so?"  I  asked  in  amazement;  Mrs.  Ellwood  nodded 
smiling,  her  eyes  full  of  happy  memories.  Upon  this  we  fell 
to  talking  of  Quaker  weddings  and  Quaker  ways  until  my 
school  hour  had  slipped  away. 

In  such  hands  the  veriest  dunce  had  discovered  parts,  and 
I,  who  was  bent  upon  succeeding,  succeeded.  One  night  when 
Abel,  a  little  husky  from  facing  an  east  wind,  laid  down 
Addison,  my  mistress  motioned  to  me,  and  putting  from  my 
knee  the  great  house-cat,  Moses,  (  so  named  by  Abel,  who 
had  drawn  him  from  the  Derwent  in  early  kittenhood),  arising 
I  read. 

[1773 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

My  host  listened  with  wonder  and  pleasure,  and  it  is  to  be 
supposed  that  some  gesture  recalling  my  younger  tutor,  her 
father  pinched  a  rosy  ear  where  she  sat  beside  him  smiling 
with  glee.  "Thou  hast  ploughed  with  my  heifer,  friend  George, " 
said  he,  a  quotation  I  sought  later  and  smiled  upon  when  I 
found. 

Here  then,  I  made  first  acquaintance  with  the  literature  of 
my  own  tongue,  the  poetry  and  prose  of  its  great  secular  authors. 

At  Ouseby,  one  subject  and  one  only  had  engrossed  the 
hours  snatched  from  business,  and  our  lives  had  been  divided 
between  a  breathless  scramble  for  money  and  enthusiastic 
religious  exercises. 

At  Milton  little  was  said  about  religion,  so  little  that  at  first 
I  awaited  apprehensively  what  I  doubted  not  was  but  post- 
poned; later  I  wondered,  but  still  the  expected  catechising 
delayed.  In  place  of  this  I  heard  the  sonorous  roll  of  John 
Milton's  blank  verse,  the  more  nimble  genius  of  Mr.  Cowper, 
and  Gibbon's  story  of  the  fall  of  Rome. 

My  masters  would  at  times  read  us  something  from  the  news, 
but  the  tidings  of  those  months  were  bloody  tidings,  wars  and 
rumours  of  wars,  and  these  were  men  of  peace. 

At  the  stroke  of  half-past  nine  my  little  mistress  would  lay  the 
Book  of  Books  before  her  father,  and  he,  having  selected  and 
read  the  day's  portion,  bent  his  head  for  a  devotional  pause 
of  some  fifteen  seconds.  This  closed  the  evening's  exercise; 
this  was  all:  less  than  a  dozen  times  during  eight  months  of 
intimacy  did  I  see  him  kneel  in  prayer,  but  I  was  not  misled 
by  the  absence  of  ritual,  for  the  Presence  silently  invoked 
was  with  the  household  to  aid  and  bless  as  effectually  as  if 
approached  with  clamour  and  emotion. 

Here,  too,  I  learned  to  think  of  a  bird  as  something  else  than 
a  mark  for  a  gun,  and  a  wild  plant  as  something  other  than 
a  weed  for  the  burning. 

[178] 


CHAPTER  TWENTY -ONE 


White's  "  Selborne"  we  read  with  delight,  and  the  plates  in 
the  earlier  volumes  of  Donovan's  "British  Birds"  were  frequent- 
ly referred  to. 

My  little  mistress  would  weary  her  head  with  working  out 
the  species  of  flowers  after  the  system  of  Linnaeus  —  a  method 
disapproved  by  her  father,  who  was,  I  believe,  an  excellent 
botanist  with  views  of  his  own. 

It  was  at  one  of  these  evening  discussions  that  he  indulged 
us  with  one  of  the  few  jests  of  his  that  I  recall:  "And  this 
Matronalis,  Phoebe,  that  thou  finds  in  the  vicarage  hedge, 
how  can  it  then  be  inditchenous  ?"  The  child  sitting  upon  the 
arm  of  his  elbow  chair,  nibbled  her  father's  ear  and  both  laugh- 
ed like  lovers.  Never  in  my  life  had  I  seen  such  innocent 
freedoms  and  mutual  delights  in  one  another's  society  between 
parent  and  child. 

On  Sunday  —  First  Day,  in  the  quaint  jargon  of  that  sect  — 
I  was  had  with  them  to  their  meeting-house  at  Coatesby,  a 
village  some  three  miles  distant,  and  there  made  acquaintance 
with  the  strange  and  intense  silence  of  Quaker  worship. 

Thus  in  all  things  was  I  treated  as  one  of  this  kindly  house- 
hold, nor  was  any  question  asked  as  to  my  past  history, 
my  profession,  beliefs,  family  or  prospects,  nor  was  any  limit 
suggested  to  my  stay. 

In  return  for  all  this,  what  could  I  do  ?  This  question  was 
with  me  from  the  first  day,  nor  became  less  urgent  as  the  singu- 
lar benevolence  of  my  hosts  continued.  The  weight  of  obligation 
bade  fair  to  oppress  me,  but  my  masters  seemed  as  uncon- 
scious of  their  kindness  as  most  men  are  of  their  selfishness, 
and  such  thought  as  they  spent  upon  me  had  only  my  welfare 
for  its  object. 


[179] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A 

PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

CHAPTER    TWENTY-TWO 
I  BECOME    A   JOURNEYMAN    MILLER 


I  MUST  have  been  lower  in  myself  than  I  knew,  and  for  a 
month  after  my  settling  at  Milton  laboured  under  a  de- 
pression and   lassitude   that   I   could   in  no  wise  shake 
off.  This  my  forbearing    masters  (  or,  rather,    should  not  I 
call  then   hosts   than    masters  )   seemed   sensible  of,  and  by 
providing  me  with  such  tasks  as  I  was  able  for,  maintained  in 
me  that  self-respect  which  losing,  a  man  loses  all. 

Neglected  as  was  my  education,  it  was  erudition  compared 
to  that  of  their  journeymen  millers,  and  I  was  thankful  to  find 
myself  useful  in  the  simple  walks  of  tallies  and  book-keeping; 
thankful,  too,  to  betake  me  to  my  sack-needle  again  and  em- 
ploy myself  in  darning  and  patching.  At  this  work  I  would  sit 
in  a  quiet  alcove  behind  the  boulting-hopper  in  company 
with  Old  Widdas,  a  pensioner  of  my  employer's,  a  man  able  for 
this  light  handicraft,  but  past  all  else;  once  a  lion  of  a 
fellow,  now  ail-but  a  ghost.  This  poor  old  gaffer,  whose  mum- 
bled, toothless  speech,  was  hard  for  me  to  follow,  was  so  aged 
as  to  have  clean  forgotten  the  date  of  his  birth,  if  he  had  ever 
known  it,  but  was  able  by  reference  to  certain  landmarks  in 
the  wide  landscape  of  his  life,  to  speak  to  events  long  past, 
and  sometimes  seemed  to  me,  sitting  beside  him,  a  kind  of 
tangible,  vocal  manuscript,  antique  and  dry  and  sallow  as 

[180] 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-TWO 


crumpled  vellum.  Thus,  the  incoming  of  the  first  George  had 
fixed  itself  in  his  baby-head  through  some  accident  with  a 
tar-barrel,  and  the  bursting  of  an  overcharged  blunderbuss, 
fired  in  the  spirit  of  loyalty,  but  costing  a  neighbour  his  thumb. 
His  father,  (  dead  and  buried  some  seventy-five  years )  had 
been  called  out  and  kept  under  arms  all  night  (  as  his  son  well 
remembered  ),  to  resist  an  expected  rising  of  the  Papists,  or 
"Whites,"  as  he  called  the  Jacobites,  doubtless  from  their 
favours,  the  Hanoverian  cockade  being  black,  as  we  all  know. 

It  is  a  common  word  that  tho'  being  rich  is  pleasant 
enough,  the  growing  richer  is  more  pleasant  still;  and  this  rule 
holds  in  other  things,  as  the  regaining  of  one's  strength  after  a 
sickness,  for  instance,  which  ( as  I  now  found )  was  a  daily 
delight,  arms  and  legs  crying  out  to  be  used,  and  finding  an 
added  pleasure  in  labouring  for  such  kindly  masters  as  the 
Ellwoods. 

Well  do  I  remember  the  day  upon  which  I  found  myself  a 
full  man  again.  It  was  a  showery  morning,  and  I,  within  doors, 
toiling  up  and  down  a  mutinous  column  of  figures,  glanced 
through  the  leaded  panes  at  a  press  of  wagons  waiting  their 
turns  for  unloading.  Thinks  I,  "'Tis  a  pity  to  toughen  dry 
Red  Lammas,"  so,  whipping  off  jacket  and  waistcoat,  I  had  a 
tail-board  down  and  a  sack  of  wheat  upon  my  shoulder  just 
as  the  rain  began.  "Where  will  ye  have  it,  Jeacocke  ?"  I  bawled 
to  the  foreman  miller;  "Heart,  alive!"  cried  he,  "have  a  care 
of  breaking  of  your  back,  sir:  taake  it  within-side  the  mill 
out  o'  the  wat,  if  ye  can  get  so  far."  To  the  job  I  went  in  a 
pelting  shower  amidst  encouraging  laughter  from  the  journey- 
men and  carters,  who  fancied  this  my  first  essay  as  porter- 
age, but  soon  thought  otherwise.  After  this  beginning  it  was 
"George!"  here  and  "George!"  there,  and  no  sooner  was  I  set 
to  my  clerking  than  one  or  another  would  put  a  head  within 
with,  "Could  ye  lend  us  a  hand  at  stacking  offals,"  or  "The 

[181] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

bells  are  warning  for  trimming  the  wheats,  sir,  and  we  be 
sorely  short-handed."  Had  I  been  one  of  themselves  they 
had  certainly  forbidden  me  the  mill  for  lacking  indentures 
of  apprenticeship,  but  all  in  some  manner  recognized  a  differ- 
ence in  degree,  and  either  as  Mr.  Abel's  friend,  or  as  "Gentle- 
man George"  welcomed  me  as  workmate  or  playmate. 

At  these  labours  ( though  not  as  yet  at  the  more  delicate 
arts  of  stone-dressing  and  tending  the  spouts )  I  became 
fairly  expert,  and  put  on  muscle  to  my  amazement,  so  that  it 
was  sport  to  me  to  raise  a  fifty-six  pounds'  weight  by  my  little 
finger  hooked  through  its  ringle,  or  to  clap  two  such  above  my 
head,  lifting  them  fairly  and  slowly  without  a  swing.  Neither 
feat,  be  it  said,  is  a  thing  to  boast  of,  but  merely  the  ordinary 
play  of  good  men. 

All  which,  added  to  my  experience  with  the  harvest-men, 
gained  me  some  knowledge  of  the  life  of  common  people,  a 
knowledge  at  which  my  younger  relations  may  permit  them- 
selves to  smile,  but  which  I  prize  upon  two  accounts,  for  not 
only  has  it  served  me  well  through  a  long  life  in  my  dealings 
with  my  social  inferiors,  but  it  was  at  the  time,  and  since,  good 
for  me  to  see  my  fellow-countrymen  from  the  level,  and  not 
from  the  steeple-top,  as  we  men  of  birth  may  be  said,  in  a 
figure,  commonly  to  see  them.  And  thus  wearing  my  domino, 
myself  unread,  I  found  my  common  fellows  by  no  means  all  of 
the  dull,  same  piece  I  had  thought,  but  differing  in  dispositions 
and  capacities  as  widely  as  ourselves.  So  much,  for  instance, 
did  Jeacocke,  our  surly,  taciturn  foreman,  differ  from  the  slip- 
pery, plausible  Demas,  our  spoutsman. 

Here,  too,  at  Milton,  I  was  shewn  another  side  of  the  middle 
class,  dealers  and  farmers,  from  that  I  had  been  used  to  see 
when  at  Bramford,  where  the  reflected  glory  of  my  father's 
title  put  every  man  upon  his  best  behaviour  in  conversing  with 
me.  The  loudness,  bluntness  and  frank,  one-sided  selfishness 

[182] 


CHAPTER 


of  these  Yorkshiremen  frequently  surprised  me.  A  bargain  be- 
tween two  of  them  was  a  match  at  hard  lying  and  hard  swear- 
ing; their  chicanery  and  profanity  exceeded  what  I  knew  of  the 
same  class  in  Suffolk,  and  made  me  speculate  how  my  masters 
held  their  own  in  such  company. 

What  I  beheld  showed  me  the  extraordinary  value  of  char- 
acter. Let  a  man  be  as  silent  and  slow  as  he  may,  if  the  society 
in  which  he  moves  is  once  persuaded  of  his  integrity,  he  has  in 
that  persuasion  a  larger  capital  and  more  permanent  than  the 
less  scrupulous  possesses  in  the  most  plausible  energy  and  daring 
foresight.  My  masters  were  absolutely  trusted,  and  being 
taciturn  men  of  tried  sobriety,  had  ever  their  wits  about  them, 
moved  by  rule  and  made  few  miscalculations.  Their  manner 
and  appearance  befriended  them,  and  seldom  did  the  roughest 
"tyke"  —  (as  these  Yorkshiremen  call  themselves  )  —  take  with 
either  of  them  the  way  of  violence  and  coarseness  that  he  would 
naturally  have  taken  with  his  fellow. 

As  is  well  known,  and  as  those  that  dealt  with  them  knew, 
my  masters,  as  Quakers  being  bound  in  conscience  to  take  no 
oath,  were  debarred  from  recovering  a  debt  or  defending  an 
unjust  claim  at  the  King's  Bench.  They  were  indeed  as  sheep 
in  the  midst  of  wolves,  yet  they  throve,  and  by  restricting  their 
dealings,  except  for  money  down,  to  those  whom  they  believed 
they  could  trust,  acquired  the  best  of  the  trade  in  their  neigh- 
bourhood. Deceived  they  were  at  times,  as  I  remember,  but 
being  held  in  general  esteem  for  their  fair  dealing  and  upright 
behaviour,  those  that  ill-used  them  came  to  be  ill-thought  of 
by  the  country-side,  and  in  the  long  run  lost  more  than  those 
they  defrauded. 


MEMOIRS  OF  4 

PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

CHAPTER    TWENTY-THREE 
ABEL 


IT  is  commonly  held  that  a  man  has  a  right  to  his  youth. 
For  what  has  his  Maker  given  him  supple  joints  and  a 
springing  spirit  but  to  enjoy  the  same  within  bounds  of 
reason  ? 

But  here  was  my  young  master  as  sad,  restrained  and  silent 
as  a  widower  whose  blacks  are  not  yet  rusty.  That  something 
rested  heavily  upon  him  was  the  common  talk  of  the  mill, 
our  freer  tongues  laying  it  to  unrequited  love  ( though  for 
what  lass  no  two  could  agree  ).  Whatever  it  was  made  no  stay 
to  his  diligence  in  business;  he  shirked  nothing,  forgot  noth- 
ing, mismanaged  nothing,  and  was  without  doubt  a  master 
of  his  trade.  His  judgment  of  wheat  was  a  daily  marvel  to 
me.  By  touch,  scent  and  appearance  he  would  foretell  not  only 
the  weight  of  the  sack  before  it  had  come  to  scale,  but  the 
colour  and  virtue  of  the  flour  that  it  would  make,  and  these 
forecasts  would  be  justified  by  the  result. 

Though  smallish  and  light  in  the  bone,  he  was  wiry  and 
adroit,  and  at  a  pinch  would  get  through  the  work  of  a  bigger 
man,  though  commonly  reserving  himself  for  command.  "My 
head,  George,  is  worth  more  to  the  mill  than  my  hands,"  he 
would  say  smiling,  and  indeed  some  pretty  ingenious  machinery 
of  ours  was  of  his  devising,  and  he  was  ever  changing  and 

[184] 


CHAPTER  r  fTENTT-THREE 


perfecting.  For  instance,  it  was  he  who  divined  that  gears  cut 
from  a  seasoned  crab-stock,  and  well  greased  had  nigh  as 
much  proof  in  them  as  cast  metal:  a  plan  that  has  by 
now  found  favour  with  every  miller  in  the  land,  as  I  should 
suppose. 

Well,  as  to  this  grief  of  his,  it  was  something  of  a  mystery, 
and  I  hate  a  mystery,  it  is  vulgar  and  it  spoils  a  man  for  his 
bed  and  his  victuals;  so  I  put  away  the  thought  of  it  as  touching 
my  friend  until  the  fact  was  fixed  in  my  head  by  words  from 
his  own  lips. 

One  night,  as  I  was  getting  into  my  bed,  I  heard  wheels 
pass  beneath  my  window,  and  looking  forth  made  out  the  shape 
and  action  of  the  blood  mare,  and  saw  her  and  the  gig  she 
drew  turn  towards  the  stables.  This  would  be  Mr.  Abel  re- 
turned late  from  a  business  journey.  We  had  not  awaited  him, 
for  it  was  his  night  to  have  lain  at  Beverley.  Slipping  on  my 
clothes  I  ran  to  the  nag-stalls  to  help  him  unharness,  and 
going  silently  in  my  mill  slippers,  came  suddenly  upon  him  in 
conversation  with  my  master  before  they  or  I  were  aware. 
Father  and  son  were  standing  face  to  face,  the  lanthorn  held 
by  the  elder  throwing  strong  light  upon  the  grave  concern  of 
the  one  and  the  haggard  whiteness  of  the  other.  The  father 
spoke,  unconscious  of  my  presence. 

"Thou  wast  arrested?" 

"On  Beverley  market,  for  horse-stealing;  the  farmer  and 
his  son  swore  hard  to  me,  but  the  magistrate  I  was  taken  before 
had  himself  been  with  me  at  Malton  at  the  time  of  the  robbery. 
'Twas  providential." 

"Then  he  is  still  in  the  riding  ?" 

"And  using  the  clothes  he  —  took  that  night.  Yes,  night 
or  day  I  am  only  safe  when  in  the  company  of  good  wit- 
nesses." 

I  had  no  business  to  have  heard  anything,  nor  desire,  so 

[185] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

fell  back  silently  into  the  ring  of  darkness  outside  the 
lanthorn's  light  and  presently  returned  whistling  to  find 
my  masters  forewarned  and  composed  enough  to  accept  my 
help. 

That  my  friend's  sorrow  lay  heavily  upon  him  I  divined  by 
his  rare  failures  of  temper  and  an  occasional  hardness  in  his 
dealings  which  was  foreign  to  his  nature,  or  rather  to  his 
practice:  thus,  our  village  postmaster  (  a  person  of  small 
repute,  who  owed  his  post,  or  more  truly  had  had  the  post 
created  for  him,  in  return  for  back-stairs  service  to  the  uncle  of 
the  then  Lord  Mandeville  ),  this  man,  Isaac  Proctor  by  name, 
must  needs  come  a-borrowing  of  my  young  master  upon  some 
pitiful  tale  of  being  behindhand  with  his  payments  to  his 
chief,  and  in  fear  of  ruin,  c* 

I  could  see  Mr.  Abel  distrusted  the  fellow's  professions, 
but  presently  lent  him  ten  pounds  upon  his  solemn  undertaking 
to  return  the  same  in  one  month.  "You'll  ne'er  see  that  money 
again,  Abel,"  said  I.  "I  fear  thou  art  right,  George,"  he  re- 
plied, adding  that  the  poor  man  had  an  unfortunate  manner. 
As  it  happened  we  were  both  wrong,  for  the  borrower  repaid  his 
loan  to  the  day  with  an  ostentation  of  punctual  honesty  which 
impressed  me  as  unnatural,  but  which  explained  itself  three 
weeks  later  when  he  pleaded  his  previous  good  faith  as  a 
reason  for  my  master  lending  him  fifty  pounds.  There  must 
have  been  many  softer  ways  of  refusal  open,  but  Abel,  being 
as  I  believed  in  inward  trouble,  took  a  way  unlike  himself. 
"No,  Proctor,"  said  he,  "thou  deceived  me  once  and  I'll  not 
trust  thee  again." 

On  another  night  I  was  waked  by  singing.  A  voice  which 
I  presently  knew  for  that  of  our  journeyman  Demas,  was 
trolling  a  scurrilous  old  tippling  song  once  popular  in  the  north 
and  called  "Duke  Wharton's  Drinking";  the  verses  I  caught 
were  the  last  pair  of  quatrains, 

[186] 


CHAPTER  T  WENT T-TH REE 


God  bless  the  King,  the  duchess  fat, 

And  keep  the  land  in  peace, 
And  grant  that  drunkenness  henceforth 

'Mong  noblemen  may  cease. 

And  likewise  bless  our  Royal  Prince, 

The  nation's  other  hope, 

And  give  us  grace  for  to  defy 

The  Devil  and  the  Pope. 

And  with  that  came  a  pebble  against  my  pane,  and  foreman 
Jeacocke  calling  below,  "Coom  down,  wull  ye,  Mister  Gearge, 
and  len's  yer  'and  at  the  spouts,  here's  this  owd  fool  Demas  as 
droonk  as  a  lord,  and  I  with  my  hands  cluttered  up  with  the 
job  ye  know  of,  and  t'  watter  raisin'  every  minute. " 

Down  I  went  to  find  myself  much  needed,  for  by  the  smell 
I  knew  that  a  pair  of  stones  must  be  heating.  Being  full  of 
orders  and  the  river  high,  we  were  running  the  mill  all  night, 
but  Demas,  whose  spell  began  at  twelve,  had  come  on  duty 
in  no  state  to  be  trusted.  Yet,  while  admitting  his  condition, 
he  was  not  to  be  persuaded  either  to  go  home  or  to  lie  and  sleep 
off  his  liquor,  but  followed  me  from  one  spout  to  another  whilst 
I  handled  and  tested  the  meal  pouring  hot  from  the  stones, 
wearying  me  with  his  prattle. 

"There's  some  laays  it  to  be  a  lass,  Gearge,  but  I'm  of  an- 
oother  opinion.  Naw,  he's  a  deep  'un  as  shall  some  daay  be 
seen.  'T'quaiet  sow  gets  t'  most  wash',  but, 'Be  sure  your  sins 
shall  find  ye  out,'  is  a  good  motto,  as  my  mother  said,  and  a 
sore  comfort  for  honest  souls  like  unto  you  and  me,  Gearge. 
Whilst  as  for  him  —  but  the  less  said  the  better  —  " 

11 A '-men  /"  said  I,  only  half  listening  and  without  an  inkling 
of  whom  he  spake. 

"Now  what  am  I  to  maake  of  a  yoong  maan  as  is  in  two 
plaaces  at  once?  Eh?  tell  me  thaat!  Ye  remember  the  first 

[187] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

daay  ye  coom  here  ?  Octo-aber  ten.  Yes  ?  Ton  coom  fra'  owd 
York  and  'e  drove  ye,  so  in  a  manner  o'  speakin'  ye  coomed 
togither;  thaat's  so.  You  boath  slapt  at  owd  York  for  more'n 
a  week  o'  nights  afore.  So  ye  said,  so  'e  said;  anywaays  ye  didn't 
neither  slape  here  —  thaat's  so.  But  the  last  night  o'  yon  — 
the  night  afore  ye  coomed  to  the  plaace  wi'  'im,  'e  were  'ere 
tbaat  night,  I  sday,  all  the  sdame." 

"Are  ye  speaking  of  Mr.  Abel  ?"  He  nodded.  I  laughed  in 
his  face.  With  the  sudden  anger  of  the  tipsy  he  seized  my 
arms  so  firmly  that  unless  I  was  for  parting  with  my  shirt- 
sleeves, I  must  needs  humour  the  fool  and  hear  him  out. 

"Ye  laugh?  but  I'm  not  laughin'!  eh!  'tis  no  laughin'  job, 
yon.  Whaat  sort  o'  maan's  yon  ?  a  ma'an  as  is  aable  to  appear 
i*  ppla-aces  f-fifteen  mile  apart  at  t'  saame  time  o'  night! 
'E  were  'ere,  around  t'  mill  yon  night;  I  see  'im  masel,  —  met 
him  a-leaving't'  hoose  as  I  coomed  on  spell  at  twelve. " 

"Gammon,  ye  blockhead,  'twas  wet  and  thick:  ye  could  not 
have  told  sweep  from  miller,  hardly  man  from  woman,  that 
night  in  York." 

"  'Twas  no  such  coorse  wather  'ereawaay,  Gearge,  'twas 
ha'f  a  moon  and  clearing  at  midnight,  aye  'twas  so,  and  I 
met  V  laad  full-faace  wi'  t'  moon  upon  'im,  an'  'e  knowed  I 
knowed  'im,  fur  'e  pulled  'is  hat  ower  'is  nose  an  niver  throwed 
me  a  word  or  said  'Night  to  ye,  Demas!'  so,  when  I  sees  'im 
drive  ye  in  next  daay,  and  heerd  tell  where  ye'd  coom  from,  I 
was  fairly  strook  a'heap. " 

"Get  away  home  to  bed,  ye  jackass,  and  let  me  use  my 
scoop,  these  troughs  are  over  full,"  said  I,  and,  loosening 
his  hold,  I  rolled  him  in  an  old  boulting-cloth  and  put  a  cotchel 
of  bran  beneath  his  head  for  a  pillow.  Thus  impounded, 
swathed  like  a  corpse,  he  slept  out  the  residue  of  his  spell, 
snoring  whiles  and  sneezing  whiles,  when  his  little  red  nose 
would  be  tickled  by  the  mill  cats,  Jannes  and  Jambres,  so  named 

[188] 


CHAPTER  T  fTENTr-THREE 


by  Abel  because  "they  withstood  Moses,"  my  friend  and  house- 
mate. 

But  some  ideas  once  sown  are  as  hard  to  eradicate  as  quitch 
from  pasture,  and,  do  what  I  would  I  could  not  rid  myself 
of  the  fancy  that  someone  for  sport  or  spite  was  personating  my 
young  master  and  casting  a  cloud  upon  his  name  and  life. 
And  with  this  thought  came  remembrance  of  a  coloured  draw- 
ing of  Abel  when  a  boy  which  hung  in  his  parents'  chamber, 
a  room  I  had  once  entered  at  house-cleaning  to  help  in  moving 
the  wardrobe;  in  this  picture  my  young  master  was  depicted 
in  two  positions,  as  if  two  persons,  as  a  full  face  and  in  profile, 
but,  for  some  cause,  the  figures  were  differently  draped  and  the 
countenances,  though  counterparts  in  colouring  and  feature, 
had  by  the  art  of  the  draughtsman  been  given  singularly  differ- 
ent expressions.  If  I  remember  rightly,  the  artist  was  one  Mr. 
Benjamin  West,  an  ingenious  young  American  who  after- 
wards enjoyed  royal  patronage.  ' 

1  Mr.  Fanshawe  was  almost  certainly  mistaken  in  attributing  the  picture  to  Mr. 
Benjamin  West  (who  was  then  at  the  height  of  his  fame  and  had  for  years  been 
closely  employed  upon  the  Chapel  Royal  and  was  elected  P.R.A.  in  1798).  The 
portrait  may  possibly  have  been  the  work  of  this  person's  pupil  and  relation,  Mr. 
Ephraim  West,  better  known  as  a  painter  of  animals. — EDS. 


[l89] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A 

PERSON  OF  QUALITY 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-FOUR 
THE  MASTER  STAG 


THE  days  shortened,  and  1798  dwindled  to  a  close. 
I  awaked  to  hear  the  bells  of  some  distant  church  — 
(  Milton  had  none  then  )  —  ring  in  the  last  year  but 
one  of  the  dying  century.  It  was  a  tremendous  time  when  all 
that  we  were  used  to  in  the  frame  of  things,  orderly  sequence, 
ancestral  right,  rank,  privilege,  seemed  shaken  and  like  to 
part  under  us. 

Across  the  Channel,  so  near  that  on  clear  days  the  garrison 
of  Dover  Castle  could  distinguish  the  moving  columns  and 
the  twinkle  of  sunlight  on  the  bayonets,  the  Revolution  stood 
armed  to  the  teeth,  was  battling  fiercely  at  all  points  from  the 
Low  Countries  to  Savoy,  had  won  Lombardy,  won  Egypt, 
was  pouring  north  through  Syria,  plainly  gaining  strength 
upon  a  diet  of  rapine  and  outrage. 

Amid  these  alarms  and  the  courage  of  the  stiffer  sort,  the 
family  circle  of  my  kindly  hosts  enclosed  my  sequestered  life. 
I  awaited  quiet  and  dumb  I  knew  not  what  of  resurrection. 
It  was  the  winter  sleep  of  the  grub  in  his  silken  hammock. 
But  in  rare  moments  of  self-consciousness  I  was  aware  ot 
processes  at  work  within  me  foreign  to  Quaker  influences  and 
shaping  me  to  other  ends  than  such  as  they  approved. 

As  for  friend  Ellwood,  he  lived  his  life,  a  life  above  the  storms. 

[190] 


CHAPTER  TWENTT-FOUR 


Abel  had  relinquished  the  country  rounds,  and  was  much  at 
home  now,  at  work  upon  some  new  machine,  his  father  taking 
the  business  journeys,  near  or  distant,  in  all  weather  and  alone. 
Never  did  I  find  him  irritable  or  cast  down  upon  his  return, 
nor  deviating  from  the  precise,  restrained  manner  of  speech 
which  exactly  stated  the  circumstance  without  our  customary 
exaggerations. 

Our  farmer  neighbours  marvelled  at  his  temerity  in  travelling 
country  turnpikes  lonely  and  dark,  at  all  hours,  unarmed  and 
carrying  considerable  sums  of  money.  When  remonstrated 
with  for  his  foolhardiness,  or  rallied  upon  his  immunity  from 
robbery,  he  would  become,  as  I  observed,  more  than  commonly 
grave. 

"One  would  think,  Ellwood,  thot  ye  paid  scot  to  the  roogs, 
or  had  a  friend  i'  the  pitrfesston,"  growled  a  hulking  grazier 
who  had  himself  suffered  at  the  hands  of  a  highwayman.  The 
fellow  meant  nothing  by  his  sneer,  and  neither  expected  nor 
received  a  reply,  yet  did  my  master's  face  take  on  an  expression 
of  positive  pairt  at  the  word  for  which  I  found  at  the  time  no 
explanation. 

The  Continental  war  increased;  our  people  were  restless; 
Ireland  a  hell;  wheat  rose  and  rose.  His  confidence  never 
failed;  "Thou  wilt  keep  him  in  perfect  peace  whose  mind  is 
stayed  on  Thee"  was  a  legend  which  seemed  inwrought  upon  the 
stuff  of  his  fine  spirit  as  indelibly  as  its  watermark  on  paper. 
Thus  stayed,  he  had  leisure  from  his  own  to  lift  their  trouble 
from  others. 

"George,"  said  he  as  we  walked  to  meeting  one  First  Day 
after  his  return  from  visiting  his  southern  customers,  "thou 
wilt  be  glad  to  hear  I  have  good  news  from  Ouseby  at  last  — 
I  have  this  for  thee. "  He  drew  from  his  pocket  a  little  "house- 
wife" worked  in  silks  and  containing  needles  and  buttons  and 
court-plaister;  such  a  thing  as  a  woman  makes  for  a  man  whom 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

she  regards  with  motherly  or  sisterly  eye.  '  'Twas  a  hard 
struggle,  my  friend,  but  she  has  come  through  'more  than 
conqueror.'  She  bade  me  ask  thy  acceptance  of  this,  and 
desires  thy  pardon."  I  had  no  words  to  reply  with,  and  he, 
kindly  covering  my  enforced  silence,  went  on,  "I  should  be 
glad  of  thy  company  on  Fourth  Day  ( Wednesday  ),  Phoebe 
and  I  will  be  walking  to  Coatesby.  'Tis  monthly  meeting,  and 
I  shall  probably  sit  it  out,  but  Phoebe  must  not  leave  her 
mother  too  long  alone,  and  will  welcome  thy  escort  home- 
wards. The  roads  grow  unsafe:  there  are  many  out  of  work 
and  wandering." 

Fourth  Day  came;  "first  meeting" — the  meeting  for  wor- 
ship —  was  over.  Two  grey-headed  farmer  friends  with  lined 
cheeks  of  folded  leather  and  broad  white  foreheads,  who  sat 
side  by  side  at  the  desk  facing  the  rest  of  us,  had  simultaneously 
opened  their  eyes,  turned  to  one  another  and  silently  shaken 
hands.  It  was  like  the  movement  of  wheel-work  figures  and 
never  failed  to  excite  my  wonder.  How  they  knew  one  another's 
minds,  and  the  time  of  day,  was  beyond  me,  for  there  was 
no  clock  within  the  room. 

At  sight  of  the  handshake  we  all  drew  long  breaths  and 
gently  felt  our  limbs;  the  women-friends  upon  their  side  of 
the  house  moved  slightly  and  decorously  to  the  same  purpose, 
and  certain  small  whispered  arrangements  were  toward.  Those 
who  from  youth,  feebleness,  or  want  of  full  membership  were  not 
expected  to  sit  out  the  second  (  business  )  meeting  arose  in 
silence. 

I  was  of  these,  and  reaching  the  door  first,  held  it  wide 
for  the  others.  Each  thanked  me  in  a  whisper:  last  came  my 
little  mistress,  who  gave  me  a  smile  in  passing,  and  having 
gone  forth  awaited  my  coming  with  the  sparkling  glee  of  a 
child  released  from  school. 

The  day  was  fair,  one  smelt  the  breaking  buds;  the  com- 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-FOUR 


ing  summer  seemed  nearer  by  a  month  than  when  it  halted 
numbly  in  the  east  wind  of  the  previous  week. 

What  a  creature  she  was!  All  freshness  and  modesty,  un- 
conscious of  itself  and  of  sin;  an  innocence  that  protected  her 
like  an  invulnerable  armour,  from  which  every  evil  thought  and 
wish  fell  quenched  and  blunted. 

The  child  was  fulfilled  with  the  spirit  of  the  spring,  and,  I 
am  persuaded,  would  have  sung  like  any  bird,  had  she  known 
how;  but  among  her  sect  music  is  clean  disregarded  and 
contemned.  Yet,  knowing  not  a  note  or  an  air,  she  had  learnt 
the  syllables  and  roundelays  of  every  bird  of  that  country-side 
and  could  mimic  and  beguile  some  of  the  creatures  to  admira- 
tion. On  clear  dark  nights  the  great  wood  owls  would  answer 
her  "hoo —  boo  —  hoo!!!"  with  their  ghostly  countersign; 
and  her  soft  whistle  would  draw  the  shy  bullfinch  to  the  lattice 
of  our  summer-house. 

Our  homeward  path  was  marked  for  her  by  a  hundred  petty 
natural  histories  of  this  and  earlier  springs.  Here  her  father  had 
once  seen  an  adder  sunning  himself  among  the  last  snow- 
wreaths  of  April,  and  here  —  "Dost  think  the  robin  will  have 
laid  yet  ?  the  lining  was  in  on  First  Day,  thee  knows." 

Next  it  was,  "Hark,  George!  dost  hear  that?  'Tis  the 
chiffchaff!  and  this  only  Third  Month  seventh.  ( March  7th  ). 
It  seems  almost  impossible:  yet,  there  it  is  again!  A  fortnight 
before  its  time." 

One  could  see  the  restless  little  animal  moving  among  the 
sallow  palms,  a  pale  green  pinch  of  feathers,  slipping  hither 
and  thither  and  pausing  momentarily  to  utter  its  simple  plain- 
song.  I  caught  its  shape  against  the  watery  blue,  gilded  and, 
outlined  by  weak  sunshine,  and  thought  I  had  ne'er  seen  aught 
so  delicate. 

Next  it  was,' '  See  here,  George !  What  have  we  here  ?  Dost  thou 
see,  great  boy,  what  thou  wast  just  for  setting  thy  foot  upon  ?" 

[193] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

This  was  a  seal,  or  footprint,  one  among  a  hundred  in 
the  toughened  mud  of  a  field  gateway.  I  looked;  I  saw 
the  cloven  prints  of  sheep,  the  broken  ring  of  a  horse-shoe, 
the  flat  disc  of  an  unshod  colt.  There  was  also  the  pad  of  a 
dog,  and  I  said  so.  My  little  mistress  laughed  clearly,  "Cer- 
tainly that  is  a  dog's  foot,  but  this  ?  look  more  closely, 
compare  them!" 

"They  differ  somewhat,  but  what  else  can  it  be,  Phoebe?" 

"Badger!  oh,  blind  boy!  and  to  think  thou  art  one-and- 
twenty!"  she  trilled  infectiously. 

"Badger,  Oho!"  said  I,  now  interested,  "Well,  that  may 
be,  but  how  do  ye  know  it,  Phoebe  ? " 

"By  it's  five  toes,  George,  surely.  Count  Rock's  when  thou 
gets  home  and  see  how  many  he  has  beside  his  dew-claws, 
which  don't  reach  to  the  ground,  thou  knows." 

I  looked  upon  her  in  wonder.  Here  was  I,  a  man  of  the  field 
since  I  was  breeched,  and  here  this  maiden  child  whose  under- 
standing of  wild  things  outstript  mine  at  every  pace;  who 
knew  note  of  bird  and  seal  of  beast,  whose  eye  and  ear  were 
rarely  at  fault,  although  —  or  possibly  because  —  she  had 
never  seen  a  gun  used  in  her  life. 

"When  spring  really  comes,"  said  she,  "I  will  teach  thee 
all  the  songs,  and  the  call-notes,  too,  which  are  harder  to  keep 
in  mind;  and  I'll  teach  thee  the  flowers'  and  butterflies'  names 
on  First  Days,  as  we  walk  to  meeting,  and  in  the  afternoons. 
See,  there  is  a  Large  Tortoiseshell,  sunning  himself  on  that  oak- 
bole,  what  a  fine  fellow!" 

I  looked,  and  listened,  and  looked  again,  but  this  time  into 
the  coming  years,  and  almost  saw  myself  a  gentled,  quieted 
man  in  drab,  walking  thus  hand-in-hand  with  my  little  mistress, 
grown  taller  and  in  a  longer  frock,  all  in  a  sweet  spring  greenness. 

Almost,  I  saw  this,  and  altogether  I  was  willing  to  have  seen 
it,  and  hoped  I  should  be  counted  worthy,  and  was  girding 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-FOUR 


myself  for  the  years  of  waiting  and  the  work  before  this  ex- 
quisite thing  could  be. 

And  then  the  dream  snapped,  for  something  external  to  the 
present  life,  something  foreign  and  smacking  wholly  of  the  old 
had  broken  in. 

The  child  and  I  were  following  a  deep  hollow  lane  between 
banks  clothed  with  hollies  and  catkinned  hazels,  and  overhung 
by  taller  trees  whose  great  roots  interlaced  and  held  together 
the  high  mossy  scarps  upon  either  side.  Of  these  one  bounded 
some  park  or  enclosure  and  was  topped  by  a  stout  oak  paling, 
four  feet  high,  solid  and  good.  Behind  this,  upon  the  leafy 
sward  overhead,  we  were  aware  of  pattering  feet,  and  then, 
without  other  warning,  a  great,  brown,  hairy  stag,  carrying  a 
mighty  head,  launched  himself  sheer  over  the  pales,  gathering 
his  limbs  in  the  air  before  he  alighted  unhurt  before  us,  stayed 
for  a  moment  irresolute,  staring  and  blowing  strong  breath 
before  turning  to  canter  heavily  away  up  the  lane. 

The  next  moment  two  couples  of  great  pied  hounds  were 
panting  and  scrambling  upon  the  woodwork,  and  they,  too,  but 
less  lightly,  slid  or  fell  into  the  roadway,  laid  their  noses  to  it, 
whined,  burst  into  deep  bell-like  notes  of  certainty,  and 
stretched  away  in  a  passion  of  unrelenting  pursuit. 

Any  man  who  had  hunted  could  see  that  despite  his  big  leap, 
the  stag  was  near  spent,  and  must  be  pulled  down  within  a  few 
minutes  unless  helped  or  bayed  in  an  unusually  strong  place. 

My  little  mistress  had  gasped  with  delight  at  the  leap;  the 
appearance  and  pursuit  of  the  hounds  opened  her  eyes  to  her 
hero's  peril,  and  her  appeal  to  me  was  instant:  "Oh,  George, 
don't  let  them  do  it;  save  the  poor  thing,  dear  George!"  and 
with  sweet  feminine  unreason  she  clung  to  my  sleeve. 

And  with  that  there  was  a  trampling  and  sobbing  of  over- 
ridden horses,  and  three  men,  red-faced  and  spattered  with 
mire,  were  leaning  over  the  pales. 

[195] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

"Hi,  sir!  You,  sir!  Can  ye  save  the  stag?  I'll  gladly  give  ye 
ten  guineas!"  "Not  he,  Mandy,  the  man's  unmounted.  What 
cursed  luck!  'tis  a  damnably  stiff  fence,  this.  Well!  Well!" 

I  felt  for  them  and  for  that  noble  beast,  but  no  man,  how- 
ever well-breathed,  can  live  a  mile  upon  the  flat  with  hounds. 

Then,  in  a  moment,  I  saw  a  great  horse  arch  its  blue-grey 
neck  over  the  pales  as  a  cob-swan  bends  before  he  takes  the 
water,  and  —  how  tell  it  ?  for  the  thing  seemed  impossible 
and  sheer  death  to  a  horse  —  he  hove  himself  grandly  over  the 
timber,  clearing  his  hind  feet  cleverly,  and  down  he  came 
through  the  hazels,  getting  all  his  feet  under  him  and  together 
ere  he  took  the  road,  his  pasterns  sharing  the  strain  of  that 
sheer  descent  to  a  marvel. 

In  a  word  the  grand  brute  knew  his  work.  His  great  red  eye 
was  full  of  intelligence,  his  round  red  nostrils  of  spirit,  he  had 
dropt  plumb  into  the  lane  from  that  height  as  delicately  as 
a  cat  drops  from  a  sill.  His  saddle  was  empty. 

The  men  above  had  shouted  "  Woa!"  when  he  challenged, 
swearing  he  had  broken  his  back;  now  they  cried  that  it  was 
the  luckiest  thing  in  the  world,  for  I  had  him  by  the  head,  and 
had  set  my  foot  to  the  stirrup. 

"A  crop!"  I  cried.  "A  crop  with  a  thong!"  They  tossed 
me  three;  the  one  I  caught  was  nine  feet  of  plaited  hide  and 
cracker  looped  to  four  feet  of  crab  and  buck-horn.  The  grey 
was  moving  when  I  mounted,  had  broken  ere  I  leant  and 
caught  the  falling  thong,  and  had  got  into  his  stride  before  I 
had  sorted  my  reins. 

"Well  done,  sir!  Keep  him  going!  Save  the  stag!"  they 
bawled,  but  their  voices  faded  behind  me  as  I  rode. 

The  grey  covered  the  ground  without  apparent  effort,  a 
long,  low  action  easy  to  sit  and  rilling  me  with  hope  of  success, 
for  the  chase  had  little  more  than  two  hundred  yards  start  of 
us,  and  we  moved  the  faster. 

[196] 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-FOUR 


Trust  me,  I  could  enlarge  upon  that  run,  which  was  one  to 
remember,  for  the  three  miles  or  so  of  it  lay  across  some  big 
fences  and  was  as  intricate  a  line  as  ever  a  failing  stag  doubled 
and  twisted  over,  or  horseman  rode.  Twenty  minutes  later, 
when  the  hunt  came  up,  a  field  of  six  with  horses  blown  and 
bloody  with  spurring,  a  hard-beset  young  man  was  found 
making  what  shift  he  might  single-handed  to  keep  the  pack  off 
a  stag  which  had  rolled  himself  up  in  a  sheep-net,  but  was 
wholly  uninjured. 

You  will  understand  that  I  had  to  listen  to  some  civil  ex- 
pressions, for  the  animal,  it  seemed,  was  my  Lord  Mandeville's 
master  stag  which  had  broken  park  some  months  since,  a  beast 
of  note  and  name,  an  eighteen  pointer,  and  promised  to  the 
King  for  his  Windsor  herd. 

They  had  come,  they  averred,  twenty-two  miles  as  the 
crow  flies,  and  had  left  twice  as  many  horses  beside  their  road. 
"And  a  few  men!"  laughed  a  fine,  red-faced  fellow  some 
years  my  senior,  rubbing  his  bare  head  with  a  bandanna, 
"Unlucky  Fanny!  what  a  thing  to  miss!" 

"Lord!  what  a  horse  the  man  has!  Did  ye  see  him  take 
the  drop  into  the  lane?  Twelve  feet  sheer,  I  assure  ye!"  (  It 
was  a  fair  ten  )"And  a  lot  left  in  him  yet!" 

All  admired  the  great  and  splendid  animal,  saying  that  he 
had  covered  the  last  fifteen  miles  unridden,  chusing  his  own 
line  and  taking  all  that  came  in  the  same  wonderful  collected 
stride.  I  thought  I  had  never  seen  so  grand  a  creature.  He  was 
what  is  known  as  a  flea-bitten  grey,  and  stood  seventeen  hands. 

And  so,  laden  with  the  compliments  of  these  hearty  fellows, 
and  taking  with  me  the  crop  and  thong,  for  so  its  owner  willed, 
I  found  my  way  homeward  across  the  fields  wondering  with 
some  compunction  how  my  little  mistress  had  fared,  thus 
suddenly  deserted  by  her  squire. 

But  I  was  no  longer  the  same  creature:  it  was  as  though 

[  197] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

some  bodily  change  had  taken  place  within  me.  Never  wholly 
freed  from  spiritual  condemnations,  even  after  the  York 
Mercy  —  these  had  thickened  upon  me  of  late,  though  inter-" 
mittently.  Now  they  were  —  for  the  hour  at  least  —  gone!  I 
found  myself  once  more  marking  the  fences  as  of  old,  "There 
would  I  have  it —  and  there! —  and  that  is  my  place  where 
the  take-off  is  sound!" 

I  walked  with  a  longer  stride;  drew  sweeter  breath;  I  thought 
no  more  (  for  the  time  )  of  my  poor  sinful  soul  and  the  Second 
Death.  The  cloud  had  lifted.  "I  am  a  man  after  all,"  I  said, 
"and,  depend  on't,  there's  a  man's  work  waiting  me  some- 
where. This  primrose  time  can't  last."  I  pinched  my  thigh: 
it  was  as  hard  as  saddle-leather.  Nay,  more,  something  I  had 
from  my  ancestors,  something  martial  awoke  and  stirred 
within  me.  This  new  strait  garb  of  Fox  and  Penn  cracked  at 
the  seams,  as  one  might  say.  The  trumpets  sang  in  my  head;  "I 
shall  hear  the  charge  sounded  yet,"  said  I,  "and  look  the  French 
in  the  white  o'  the  eye,  please  God!  and  see  their  horse  're- 
ceive the  files,'  as  it  always  does  when  ours  has  the  pace  in  it 
and  is  ridden  home.  No!  I'm  not  meant  for  a  Quaker,  they  are 
God's  saints  without  doubt,  and  I  not  worthy  to  open  and  shut 
the  doors  of  their  meeting-house.  And  yet  — !" 


[198] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A 

PERSON  OF  QUALITY 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-FIVE 
MORE  OF  MY  FRIEND  ABEL 


YOU  may  believe  that  I  was  not  exempt  from  move- 
ments of  curiosity  as  to  the  origins  of  the  singular 
circle  into  which  I  had  been  introduced,  and  although 
I  reciprocated  the  courtesy  they  extended  to  my  incognito, 
frequently  detected  myself  piecing  together  such  fragments 
of  their  domestic  history  as  I  had  chanced  to  discover. 

In  this  respect  my  hosts  were 'not  wilfully  secretive;  but, 
as  I  say,  I  asked  no  questions,  and  it  seemed  never  to  occur  to 
them  that  the  topic  would  interest  a  stranger. 

We  of  the  landed  aristocracy  are  ludicrously  sensitive  upon 
this  subject,  and  whilst  holding  it  ill  manners  to  boast  our 
descents  at  our  own  or  our  friend's  tables,  lose  few  opportunities 
of  insisting  upon  them  in  the  form  of  book-plates,  coach  panels, 
effigies,  and  church  windows.  It  is  a  point  of  faith  with  nineteen 
out  of  twenty  of  us  that  we  "came  over  with  the  Conqueror," 
albeit  our  names  do  not  stand  upon  the  Battle  Abbey  roll. 
The  twentieth,  more  wisely,  avers  that  his  ancestors 
arrived  with  Hengist,  which  is  likely  enough,  but  equally  void 
of  proof. 

I  once  heard  my  father  observe,  in  a  moment  of  expansive 
veracity,  that  not  three  families  of  his  acquaintance  could  show 
evidence  of  landed  estate  earlier  than  the  rising  of  Wat  Tyler, 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

the  more  part  being  the  progeny  of  ennobled  cits,  and  the 
proudest  of  all  the  descendants  of  royal  bastards. 

That  my  hosts'  reticence  upon  this  matter  was  not  due  to 
ignorance  I  was  presently  aware.  The  biography  of  a  collateral 
ancestor  of  their  name  I  found  pleasant  and  even  diverting 
reading.  The  Thomas  Ellwood  of  1639-1713  was  the  friend 
of  William  Penn,  the  amanuensis  of  John  Milton,  and  himself 
had  promptings  of  the  muse  with  results  more  laughable  than 
euphonious. 

Others  of  the  race  had  suffered  for  their  faith.  The  Quakers 
were  abominably  persecuted  at  their  earliest  appearance  and 
for  four  generations  after.  During  the  first  hundred  years  of 
the  existence  of  the  sect  it  is  said  there  was  never  one  day 
during  which  some  member  of  their  body  was  not  in  jail  for 
conscience  sake.  Hundreds  perished  of  prison-fevers,  hundreds 
were  ruined  in  health  and  estate,  and  to  this  noble  army  of 
martyrs  the  Ellwoods  had  contributed  more  than  one  of  their 
name. 

And  there  had  been  more  recent  passages.  Thus,  my  little 
mistress  referred  once  and  again  to  some  childish  recollection 
of  Edge  Garth,  from  which  I  gathered  that  she  had  not  been 
born  at  Milton.  Jeacocke  and  the  older  hands  spoke  of  things 
which  had  happened  "before  Ellwoods  time"  but,  my  first  clear 
light  upon  their  past  broke  when  Abel  found  me  examining  an 
old  corn-sack  branded,  "  T.  ELLWOOD,  EDGE  GARTH, 
CHORLEY." 

"Dost  know  those  parts,  George?"  he  asked,  to  which  I 
replied,  "Only  by  name;  but  by  this  token  your  father  must 
have  lived  there  ?  " 

"Yes;  until  ten  years  since.  We  had  farmed  the  Edge 
for  a  hundred  years;  ever  since  we  came  north  out  of  Bucking- 
hamshire. But  the  last  life  in  the  lease  died. " 

"And  would  not  your  landlord  readmit  you  upon  a  fine?' 

[200] 


CHAPTER  TWENTY -FIVE 


'  'Twas  a  landlady,  George;  but  I  doubt  if  she  knew  any- 
thing about  it.  Her  agent  refused  us  any  terms. " 

"That  seems  strange,  for  as  tenants  you  must  always  have 
been  better  than  good." 

He  smiled  grimly.  "The  person  had  a  prejudice  against  our 
Society. " 

"Unreasonable  fool!"  said  I,  warmly;  "whose  property  was 
it?" 

"The  Countess  of  Blakenham's,"  said  he,  and  went  on,  not 
observing  my  confusion:  "It  touched  my  parents  closely:  to  me 
it  mattered  less,  for  I  had  been  at  my  boarding-school  five 
years  and  had  somewhat  lost  touch  with  the  place." 

"What,  were  there  no  holidays  at  your  school  —  Ack- 
worth,  you  call  it,  I  think  ? " 

"None.  We  go  at  eight  or  nine  and  leave  at  fifteen.  Those 
whose  homes  are  within  reach  see  their  parents  perhaps  twice 
or  thrice  a  year;  but  children  from  the  south  forget  their 
mothers'  faces  long  before  their  time  is  up,  and  what  is  stranger, 
their  mothers  fail  to  recognize  them  when  they  meet.  In  my 
own  case  there  were  longish  spells  when  I  missed  my  people 
badly  and  might  have  moped  but  for  the  kindness  of  a  fatherly 
old  Friend  who  then  lived  near,  and  was  often  in  and  out;  Isaac 
Penington  is  his  name:  such  a  man!  I  wonder  what  thou  wouldst 
make  of  him.  He  lives  down  south  now.  He  helped  me  through 
my  trouble:  I  had  trouble  there. " 

"I  should  call  the  place  a  jail,  not  a  school,"  said  I, 
disdainfully. 

"Thou  wouldst  miscall  it,  then.  'Tis  a  school  of  the  best." 

And  so  we  fell  into  friendly  dispute  as  to  the  merits  of  Eton 
and  Ackworth,  I  trying,  as  well  as  I  might,  to  show  him  the 
rough,  free,  self-governed  life  of  my  great  and  ancient  college, 
and  he  expounding  to  me  the  order,  frugality  and  punctual 
restraints  of  the  seminary  to  which  he  claimed  to  owe  so  much. 

[201] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QU4LITT 

"Confess,  now,  George,  were  not  the  barbarisms  of  that  un- 
shepherded  rabble  of  yours  a  terrible  ordeal  for  small  and 
gentle  lads  ?  Were  not  some  of  these  beaten  down  and  crushed 
by  the  stronger  wills  and  bodies  ?" 

"Why,  possibly,"  said  I,  considering  the  matter  afresh; 
"It  was  no  place  for  milk-sops,  for  such  as  could  not  hit  back, 
and  hit  hard,  I  mean.  And  your  old  school,  Abel,  seems,  from 
your  account,  to  have  been  more  like  a  monkish  cloister,  with 
its  silence  and  narrow  bounds,  iron  rule  and  hours  for  every- 
thing. A  rare  place  for  a  quiet,  gentle  fellow,  no  doubt,  but 
how  about  your  dare-devils  ?  You  Quakers  throw  up  such, 
occasionally,  don't  you  ?" 

We  were  leaning  upon  the  rail  of  the  sluice-gate  bridge 
on  a  mild  morning,  sunny  and  quiet.  The  sluices  were  all  down 
and  the  brown  tail-water  lay  still  and  clear  below  the  mossy 
apron.  A  school  of  dace  came  flickering  up  —  Wbish !  into 
their  midst  went  a  long  furrow  of  white  water;  a  pike  had  one 
of  'em:  his  brassy  flank  gleamed  as  he  turned. 

"Yes;  the  quietest  waters  have  that,"  said  Abel.  "We 
have.  Our  oldest  Quaker  stocks  do  throw  up  wild  adventurous 
shoots  at  times,  and  these  .  .  .  find  Ackworth  irksome. 
There  was  a  boy  there  .  .  .  I  knew  him;  we  were  of  an  age, 
and  had  much  in  common.  He  could  not  bear  it." 

"I'll  be  bound  he  was  a  fine  fellow!"  I  interjected. 

"O,  the  finest!"  cried  he,  with  rare  enthusiasm,  "such  a 
head!  I  was  no  match  for  him!  Such  a  little  fellow,  too,  but 
incredibly  active,  keen,  hot  — 

"A    thoroughbred!" 

"Thou  hast  it;  ah,  yes;  and  like  some  blood  horses,  he 
despised  harness  and  would  not  endure  the  whip.  Oh,  an  in- 
domitable temper!  The  teachers  there  did  their  best;  good  men; 
they  knew  no  other  way.  But  they  failed  with  him.  It  was 
rebellion  and  punishment,  punishment  and  rebellion,  until  he 

[  202] 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-FIVE 


grew  hardened  and  desperate.  He  got  a  master  down  and  beat 
him  badly,  and  being  locked  up  to  await  a  flogging,  broke  out 
and  ran  away." 

His  voice  had  fallen  low  and  most  mournful,  but  I  remarked 
nothing  at  the  time,  crying:  "Well  done!  I  should  like  to  meet 
that  fellow!  There  is  stuff  in  him.  What  became  of  the  man  ?" 

"Whether  he  joined  the  Gypsies  first  or  went  to  sea,  I  am  not 
sure.  He  tried  both  ways  of  life  in  turn,  and  saw,  I  believe, 
the  most  lawless  side  of  each. " 

"Why,  naturally  enough,  after  such  a  cooping-in  he  would 
flutter  his  farthest.  Ackworth  would  have  driven  me  to  poaching 
and  smuggling,  I  am  sure  of  it:  can  feel  it  tingling  in  my 
arms  and  legs. 

And  did  he  never  come  up  again  from  his  plunge  ?  These 
wars  should  give  such  spirits  their  chance." 

Abel  had  grown  the  gloomier  as  his  story  drew  to  a  close, 
and  had  no  reproving  smile  for  my  ebullition,  but  turned,  his 
face  from  me.  "Ah,  there  my  tale  ends,"  said  he. 

"Well,  friend  Abel,  it  takes  all  sorts  to  make  a  world. 
That  sort  goes  campaigning;  ye  can't  stop  him;  he  is  built 
that  way.  (  So  am  I,  worse  luck!"  ) 

I  had  near  sighed  out  my  secret,  so  changed  my  tune.  "And 
you,  what  would  you  be  if  free  to  make  your  future  ?" 

He  did  not  reply  at  once;  it  was  not  his  way.  His  gaze  roved 
over  the  green  country-side  and  saw  ( I  doubt  not )  what 
neither  I  nor  any  other  in  those  parts  had  then  the  wit  to  see 
—  how  vilely  it  was  farmed.  His  eye  took  in  its  wastefully 
overgrown  shaw-fences,  its  choked  ditches  and  undrained 
rushy  pastures.  He  must  have  seen  its  tumble-down  post-and- 
pan  cottages,  filthy  and  ancient,  each  with  its  rotten  thatch 
overhead,  and  its  sodden  earth  floor  underfoot,  its  midden 
before  the  door.  These  things  stared  you  in  the  face  all  over 
England  then,  and  no  man  gave  them  a  thought. 

[203] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUAUTT 

"I  would  chuse  to  be  steward  to  some  rich  man  over  a 
large  estate,  and  have  a  free  hand,"  said  he. 

'Tis  a  fine  life,  I  should  suppose,"  said  I,  thinking  aloud 
and  like  a  fool;  "there  is  all  your  time  in  the  open  and  your 
fill  of  rod,  and  gun,  and  hound." 

He  had  not  heard  me,  and  murmured  softly  on: "There  are 
the  farmers  to  protect  from  the  landlords,  and  the  poor  ill-used 
land  from  the  farmers;  and  the  men  from  the  masters,  and  the 
women  and  children  from  both  .  .  .  O,  for  schools, 
schools!" 

"Education  is  poison  to  a  labourer,  Abel,"  said  I,  repeating 
the  parrot-cry  of  the  day.  "A  thick  head,  a  strong  arm,  and  a 
still  tongue  is  all  we  want  with  'em. " 

He  blinked  and  shrugged  slightly;  he  was  used  to  let  my 
banalities  answer  themselves. 

"I  would  have  a  thatching  class  in  my  school,"  said  he, 
"and  prizes  for  hurdle-making,  and  for  the  best  dipt  sheep  and 
the  best  ploughed  acre,  and  for  the  best  drest  horse  and  the 
best  kept  harness  —  "  he  paused  for  breath,  his  eyes  shining, 
and  ran  on  again:  "Oh,  there  are  twenty  other  rural  crafts; 
what  do  you  say  to  prizes  for  trimmed  quick  and  cut-and-laid 
fencing,  for  example?" 

"Why,  now  I  am  with  you,"  said  I,  "for  all  that  you  are 
for  teaching  'em  ties  'em  to  the  land,  makes  better  servants 
of  'em,  and  inclines  them  less  to  slip  it  off  to  town  where 
these  country  handicrafts  of  yours  are  not  wanted.  Yes,  friend 
Abel,  when  I  come  into  my  estate,  I'll  hand  it  over  to  ye  to 
manage  for  me!"  and  with  that  I  laughed  out,  hopelessly 
enough,  and  went  on  with  my  catechising. 

"  But  all  this,  man,  is  for  somebody  else  (  'tis  always  so 
with  you  Quakers).  What  for  yourself?  Come  now,  three 
wishes,  and  I'll  be  your  fairy  godmother!" 

"A  better  lathe;  a  better  forge  and  —  and  —  time  to  use  both ! " 

[204] 


CHAPTER  TWENTY -FIVE 


"Aha!  I  know  ye!  'Tis  this  imp's  work,  this  steam-machine 
of  yours  you  are  thinking  about. " 

"Hush,  George!"  he  flushed  like  a  girl  surprised  over  a 
love-letter,  "Not  a  word  of  this  to  anyone,  please.  I  trust  thee!" 

Already  the  rare  moment  of  self-revelation  was  passing. 
Like  some  strange  foreign  flower,  I  was  once  bid  to  see  in  some- 
one's glass-house,  which  after  months  of  preparation  opened 
for  its  hour  and  then  closed  for  ever,  he  was  folding  himself 
up,  grimly  and  coldly,  as  a  man  ashamed  of  some  untimely  out- 
burst of  sentiment,  and  I  was  again  (  as  ever  )  outside. 

He  shifted  the  parcel  he  was  carrying.  "Have  thee  heard 
of  poor  Demas's  trouble  ?  (  for  so  I  fear  he  will  think  it  ),  a 
triplet!  The  man  is  somewhat  upon  my  mini.  He  feels  under 
a  cloud  and  has  the  down  look. " 

"Let  him  keep  his  hands  out  of  the  flour-bin  then,  and — " 

"Yes,  yes,  I  know,  George;  but  still  —  I  was  on  my  way  to 
pay  the  wife  a  little  call.  It  seems  an  occasion  for  shewing 
them  both  that  bygones  are  bygones:  will  thee  come  ? " 

The  cottage  stood  by  the  stocks;  Mrs.  Demas,  but  a  week 
from  her  lying-in,  left  the  wash-tub  to  admit  us.  A  thin,  weary 
woman  with  a  shifty  eye  and  a  deprecatory  courtesy,  she 
was  as  ill  at  ease  in  her  landlord's  presence  as  he  in  hers,  tho' 
for  better  reasons,  as  I  knew. 

"Lawks,  Master  Aabel!"  cried  she,  drying  her  hands  upon 
her  apron,  "An'  soa  ye've  coom  to  see  t'  blessed  childern!" 

"Well,  yes;  if  it  is  quite  convenient,"  said  he,  slipping  his 
parcel  behind  the  door.  The  action  and  reply  seemed  a  sensible 
relief  to  the  woman,  for,  despite  her  expressed  anticipation, 
it  was  plainly  not  what  she  had  expected. 

The  little  morsels,  waxen  and  silent,  lay  upon  a  pillow 
happed  in  a  blanket,  side  by  side,  showing  piteously  like  to 
a  child's  dolls. 

Abel  bent  over  them  with  a  depth  of  interest  which  sur- 

[205] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

prised  me  who  knew  of  his  passion  for  childhood.  This  glum, 
tongue-tied  fellow  could  hardly  endure  the  wailing  of  a  child, 
and  found  infant  laughter  the  sweetest  of  music.  He  would 
send  many  a  half-hour  upon  his  knees,  toying  with  a  baby,  as 
his  customers'  wives  knew  well.  "They  are  the  most  wonderful 
things,  George,  fresh  from  the  Almighty's  hand.  Think  of  it!  " 

Thus  he  would  say  to  me,  who  found  them  all  alike,  pink, 
squabby  and  void  of  interest. 

"And,  what  will  thee  name  them,  dame  ?"  said  he. 

"Faith,  Hope,  and  Charity,  sir,  'tis  Demas's  own  thowt; 
ma  'oosband  was  iver  a  Bible  man. " 

"Ah!  and  how  will  he  know  which  is  which  ?"  (  for  they  lay 
and  were  as  like  as  peas  in  a  pod  ). 

"Asily,  asily,  sir,"  said  the  mother,  stirring  up  the  one 
which  might  be  a  shade  the  plumpest;  "  'The  greatest  of  these 
is  Charity.'  " 


[206] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A 

PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

CHAPTER   TWENTY-SIX 
THE  CHURCH  TO  THE  RESCUE 


THE  living  of  Milton-on-Derwent  is  a  vicarage  which 
was  then  held  by  a  non-resident  incumbent,  a  Mr. 
Sinclair,  who  dwelt  at  his  rectory  of  Monkholmeburn, 
some  five  miles  away. 

The  man  had  recently  read  himself  in,  and  we,  who  did 
not  know  him  by  sight,  had  heard  of  his  discontent  with  the 
curate  and  annoyance  at  the  neglected  state  of  the  church, 
which  was  grown  more  to  the  likeness  of  an  ivy-tod  than  a  place 
of  prayer,  the  chancel  roof  being  so  over-flourished  as  to  prove 
a  stronghold  for  vermin,  and  being  held  a  certain  draw  when 
fox-hounds  came  our  way. 

The  late  incumbent,  also  non-resident  and  very  old,  had 
let  things  go  their  own  way.  The  new-comer  was  suspected 
of  a  zeal  for  renovation. 

So  much  I  learned  from  the  talk  of  men  in  the  mill.  I  may 
even  have  heard  of  a  parish  meeting  to  pass  a  rate,  but  cannot 
be  sure.  Neither  my  master  nor  Mr.  Abel  spoke  of  these  things 
to  me,  and  when  they  drove  away  early  in  May  to  attend  the 
Quakers'  yearly  meetings  at  their  central  meeting-house  in 
Gracechurch  Street,  London,  if  their  leave-taking  were  more 
than  commonly  grave  I  knew  not  the  reason. 

It  was  the  first  warm  day  in  a  month  parched  by  east  winds 

[207] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITT 

and  a  drying  sun,  and  I,  getting  sacks  of  wheat  from  a  wagon 
to  the  lewkom  of  the  topmost  floor,  had  leisure  whilst  the  bright 
chain  links  ran  through  my  fingers  to  look  through  the  open 
shutter  over  the  garden  trees  towards  my  master's  house  below. 

It  seemed  that  something  unusual  was  afoot;  I  saw  tables 
and  chairs  borne  forth  of  the  porch  by  strange  hands,  and  there 
stood  a  knot  of  idlers  before  the  door  beside  one  or  two  con- 
veyances. "Jeacocke,"  said  I,  to  the  foreman-miller  whose 
sack-barrow  was  taking  the  wheat  from  my  chain,  "What  is 
this  at  the  house  ?"  The  man  thrust  his  head  forth,  looked  long, 
and  having  drawn  it  in,  swore,  which  being  no  habit  of  his,  and 
a  thing  out  of  the  common  in  that  mill,  showed  a  disgust  deeper 
than  ordinary. 

"D  —  n  they  thievin'  churchwardens?"  said  he,  "canna 
they  lat  t'  women  aloan  when  t'men's  awaay  ?  Yon's  a  seizure 
for  the  church  raate,  sir,  and  though  I  be  as  good  a  church 
and  king's  man  as  the  passon  himself,  I  be  half  a  mind  to —  " 

Now  I  knew  that  one  of  the  peculiar  views  of  the  Quakers 
was  (  and  is  )  to  refuse  payment  of  what  they  hold  to  be 
an  unjust  tax,  and  rather  to  permit  their  chattels  to  be  dis- 
trained upon  than  to  appear  by  paying  to  countenance  what 
conscience  disapproves. 

And  certainly  to  a  plain  man  it  seems  hard  to  call  upon 
those  to  repair  a  church  who  do  not  use  it;  and  if  by  any  chance 
the  boot  were  upon  t'  other  leg,  and  we  Churchmen  were 
bidden  by  a  dissenting  parliament  to  build  Methodist  chapels 
which  we  saw  no  need  for,  we  should  probably  be  sensible  of 
injustice  in  what  we  now  stoutly  hold  to  be  right  and  reasonable. 

So  much,  I  say,  I  knew;  nor  did  I  wait  to  discover  what 
the  half  of  the  foreman's  mind  was  inclined  to;  but,  lifting 
the  traps,  slid  down  the  chain  hand  over  hand  to  the  wagon  be- 
low, leapt  to  the  ground  and  ran  to  the  house. 

The  scene  that  awaited  me  was  sufficiently  surprising 

[208] 


CHAPTER  r  WENT T -SIX 


being  more  after  the  likeness  of  a  house  put  to  the  sack  by  the 
French  than  what  one  expects  in  Old  England. 

There  stood  a  broker  and  the  bailiff  from  Monkholmeburn 
directing  the  removal  of  the  furniture  from  the  parlour.  Tables, 
chairs,  settle,  family  portraits,  books  and  ornaments  lay,  upon 
the  lawn  in  piteous  disorder.  Upon  the  hood  over  the  porch 
stood  Moses,  his  back  arched,  his  tail  like  a  bottle-brush.  I 
could  hear  inside  the  house  the  gruff  tones  of  strangers  in  con- 
troversy with  my  little  mistress,  whose  voice  was  raised  in 
entreaty  and  whom  these  seemed  to  be  talking  down. 

Thrusting  through  the  knot  of  idlers  which  these  unusual 
proceedings  had  drawn  to  the  spot,  I  reached  the  parlour,  and 
found  a  room  stript  to  the  walls  and  floor,  where  the  two 
Proctors,  Isaac,  the  postmaster  and  vicar's  churchwarden, 
and  Elihu  his  brother,  the  parish  constable,  were  plucking  the 
last  chair  in  the  room  from  under  my  mistress,  regardless  of  her 
gentle  remonstrance  and  her  daughter's  plea  that  her  mother 
was  unable  to  rise. 

The  poor  lady  would  certainly  have  fallen  heavily  had 
not  Miss  Phoebe  interposed  her  arm  and  broken  her  mother's 
descent  to  the  floor. 

When  I  saw  this,  the  strength  of  strong  passion  coming  upon 
me,  I  had  much  ado  to  restrain  my  fists;  indeed,  but  for  the 
gentle  presences  in  which  I  stood,  and  the  schooling  I  had 
undergone  at  their  hands,  I  had  certainly  done  those  rude  fel- 
lows a  mischief. 

What  I  did  was  to  throw  my  arms  around  the  churchwarden 
from  behind  and  carry  him  from  the  house;  it  was  a  weighty 
burden,  but  not  so  heavy  as  a  sack  of  flour  which  scales  two 
hundred  and  eighty-five  pounds  and  is  of  ten  carried  in  such 
fashion  by  a  good  man.  So  amazed  was  the  fellow,  he  being  in 
ignorance  of  my  coming,  or  in  whose  grip  he  found  himself,  that 
he  made  no  resistance,  and  when  I  tossed  him  down  somewhat 

[209] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

roughly,  as  I  own,  he  fell,  being  breathless.  And  with  that  his 
brother  the  constable  rushing  upon  me  in  anger  from  behind, 
but  forgetting  a  certain  break  of  level  and  half-step,  missed 
his  footing  and  me,  and  sprawled  his  length  upon  him  he  de- 
sired to  help  without  touch  of  mine. 

Thus  rolling  one  upon  another  they  lay  at  the  foot  of  the 
porch  steps  in  no  contrite  humour. 

"In  t'  King's  naame !"  panted  the  constable  rising  and 
pointing  me  to  the  crowd,  but  keeping  himself  beyond  my  reach. 

"Thou  shalt  smeart  fur  this,  Quaaker!  dom  thee!"  growled 
the  postmaster  brushing  his  knees. 

"And  what  may  this  mean,  good  people?  Ah!  Proctor, 
'tis  you,  is  it  ?  And  now,  as  soon  as  you  have  your  breath,  be 
good  enough  to  tell  me  what  you  are  about. " 

The  speaker  was  a  person  of  fifty  or  thereabouts,  attired 
in  a  long  black  riding-coat  and  small  tricorne  with  white 
wig  and  neckcloth.  The  intonation  and  choice  of  words 
denoted  his  station;  his  seat,  for  he  addressed  us  from 
the  saddle,  and  all  the  assured  carriage  and  pose  of  the  man 
spoke  of  race. 

Whilst  awaiting  his  answer  he  ran  his  eye  over  the  disarray 
of  furniture,  the  carts  in  attendance,  the  broker's  men  in  aprons 
preparing  to  load,  and  was  visibly  displeased  with  what  he  saw. 

"Sarvioe  to  ye,  rector;  'tis  the  church  raate,  sir.  These  be 
Quaakers  as  won't  paay,"  said  the  elder  Proctor. 

"Oho!  and  you  are  distraining  upon  Mr.  Ellwood's  chat- 
tels ?"  returned  the  rector  (  for  this  was  he  )  very  gently,  but 
with  a  certain  iciness  in  his  manner. 

"Why,  yes,  rector,  they  niver  paays,  an'  soo  we  seizes. 
'Tis  the  law,  yer  worship;  an'  we  calls  on  ye  to  witness  this 
yoong  man's  vi'lence.  We've  bin  strook  and  floong  out  o' 
t'house,  an'  obstroocted  in  the  execution  of  our  duties." 

"Not  quite  so  fast,  Mr.  Proctor;  you  are  my  churchwarden 

[210] 


CHAPTER 


certainly,  but  your  office  does  not  empower  you  to  seize 
personally. " 

"Nor  to  offer  violence  to  ladies,  sir,"  said  I. 

His  eye  turned  to  me  and  flashed  a  question.  I  answered  it. 

"These  fellows  have  not  only  stript  a  room,  sir,  but  have 
thrown  my  mistress  from  her  chair  to  the  floor,  an  invalid, 
unable  to  rise.  'Twas  for  that  I  outed  them,  tho'  I  have 
struck  no  blows  —  yet. " 

"We  waanted  t'chair:  she  wouldna  get  oot  on't,"  growled 
the  men. 

"Hold  my  mare!"  The  rector  swung  down  lightly  and 
passed  into  the  house  uncovered.  I  followed  him.  My  mistress, 
very  pale  and  faint,  lay  where  she  had  fallen,  the  chair  over- 
turned beside  her;  Miss  Phoebe  supporting  her  mother's  head 
upon  her  knees.  The  spectacle  would  have  moved  a  Turk. 

The  rector  paused  upon  the  threshold  and  for  a  moment 
found  not  a  word  to  say.  "Madam,"  he  exclaimed  at  length, 
and  his  voice  vibrated  strangely,  and  as  he  spoke  he  made  the 
ladies  the  finest  bow  in  the  world  and  displayed  the  most 
embarrassed  face.  "Madam  .  .  .  what  can  I  say?  .  .  . 
How  shall  I  express  my  indignation  and  regret  ?  .  .  .  I  rode 
hither  to-day  in  hopes  .  .  .  but  I  must  first  present  myself 
to  you  as  the  vicar  of  Milton.  It  is  my  misfortune  ladies, 
to  enter  your  dwelling  .  .  .  to  make  my  first  appearance  in 
the  guise  of  a  thief !  .  .  .  I  had  intended  otherwise.  .  .  . 
I  am  forestalled.  Will  you  bear  .  .  .  may  I  venture  to 
offer  my  assistance  ? " 

I  stept  forward;  together  we  replaced  my  mistress  in 
her  seat.  She  smiled  breathlessly,  but  with  the  sweetest 
intention. 

The  rector  stood  before  her  flushed  with  emotion,  his 
fine  eyes  sparkling;  and  now  that  I  had  a  better  look  at  him 
I  decided  that  I  liked  his  face,  which  was  a  strong  face,  and 


a  good  face,  and  belonged  to  a  man  that  I  had  rather  agree  with 
than  differ  from. 

My  mistress  had  by  this  regained  her  voice.  "Friend  Sin- 
clair, I  thank  thee  kindly,"  said  she  and  offered  him  her  hand, 
which  he  took  and  lifted  to  his  lips,  dropping  upon  one  knee 
the  while,  with  as  courtly  a  motion  as  though  the  small  white 
faded  fingers  had  been  those  of  his  sovereign.  Rising  he  swept 
her  another  inclination  and  left  the  room. 

Next  minute  his  voice  rang  from  without,  intense,  impera- 
tive as  the  voice  of  a  drill  sergeant.  "Replace  this  furniture  — 
every  stick  of  it  —  d'ye  hear  ?  And  handle  it  as  if  'twere  china. 
In  with  you!"  His  tones  shook  with  anger,  which  he  held  in,  and 
curbing  himself  to  silence,  stood  upon  guard  until  the  last 
piece  was  replaced  and  the  door  closed. 

"And  now,"  said  he,  taking  the  oaken  garden-seat  beside 
the  porch,  "I  am  upon  the  bench;  I  sit  here  as  magistrate  and 
propose  to  enquire  what  this  business  may  mean."  His  eye 
travelled  around  the  circle  of  blank  or  sullen  faces.  A  vicar 
and  rector  who  was  likewise  a  justice,  and  was  known  to  have 
been  called  to  the  bar  before  taking  orders,  was  not  a  man  to 
trifle  with,  right  or  wrong. 

"Here's  a  piece  of  work,  indeed,"  he  went  on,  "that  bristles 
with  illegalities,  as  the  veriest  fool  may  see!  Mr.  Broker,  your 
license!  —  Out  with  it  fellow,  don't  tell  me  that  ye  have  it  not 
upon  you!  —  Ah!  past  date  by  a  month,  sirrah!  —  You  are 
fined  the  full  amount,  ten  pounds,  and  I  warn  ye  I  shall  make 
it  my  business  to  oppose  its  renewal.  This  alone  puts  us  all 
out  of  court.  But  had  ye  nought  else?  This  is  not  enough; 
where  is  your  warrant  ? " 

The  broker  looked  upon  the  churchwarden,  and  he  upon  the 
broker,  and  at  length  after  searching  of  pockets  produced  a 
demand  note!  The  rector  let  himself  go.  "Dolts!  knaves! 
nincompoops!  What  have  you  done  ?  D'ye  not  see  that  this  is 

[212] 


CHAPTER  r  WENT T -SIX 


sheer  house-breaking  ?  God  in  Heaven!"  he  shouted.  "Am  I,  in 
the  first  month  of  my  incumbency  to  be  asked  to  hold  a  candle 
to  sordid  felons  ?  What  ?  'You  didn't  know  ?'  'You  didn't  think  ?' 
'Twas  all  for  the  Church!'  And  so  /  am  to  screen  you  and 
pocket  the  proceeds  of  a  larceny  from  the  meekest  and  kindliest 
of  my  people  ?  Blockheads!"  he  blurted,  driving  his  spurs  into 
the  gravel,  "This  might  lay  every  man  jack  of  you  by  the  heels 
in  York  Castle,  if  not  in  the  hulks;  Hear  ye  that  ?" 

They  heard  and  trembled,  for  Mr.  Sinclair's  eye  and  voice 
carried  conviction. 

"And  as  for  you,  Master  Constable,  what  do  you  here  upon 
private  property  ?  Have  you  a  search-warrant  ?  No!  Nor  a  war- 
rant to  arrest  ?  No!  Well,  if  you  remain  a  constable  at  the  week's 
end  'twill  not  be  by  fault  of  mine.  But,  heh!  stop  there!"  for 
Elihu  was  slipping  off.  "  Not  so  fast;  you  came,  it  would 
seem,  for  your  own  pleasure,  you  shall  now  serve  mine,  and 
while  ye  yet  bear  the  truncheon  shall  do  my  bidding.  Take 
these  two  into  your  custody  !  " 

The  postmaster  and  broker  changed  countenances,  their 
chops  fell,  their  knees  quaked  under  them. 

"To  the  stocks  with  them,  Master  Constable,  quickly! 
What  man,  ye  hesitate?  you  refuse?  Hark!  I  call  upon  all 
loyal  people  to  support  me  who  am  set  here  as  justice  of  the 
king's  peace;  and  by  God  !  if  there  be  three  pair  of  holes, 
Master  Constable,  you  shall  sit  beside  them!" 

By  this  every  man  who  could  leave  the  mill,  and  some  half- 
dozen  of  wagoners,  stood  around  him,  and  these  were  hot- 
faced  and  eager  to  do  his  bidding.  The  three  culprits  resisted 
no  further,  but  with  hanging  heads  and  haggard  faces  were 
thrust  along  down  street  in  the  midst  of  a  jeering  crowd,  the 
rector  striding  behind,  riding-whip  in  hand. 

Whilst  I  hung  irresolute,  boy-like,  desiring  to  see  justice 
done  upon  these  insolent  persons,  but  still  anxious  about  my 

[213] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

mistress,  Miss  Phoebe  beckoned  me  from  the  porch,  and  I 
followed  her  within.  Said  her  mother: 

"George,  what  has  happened;  what  will  he  do  to  those  poor 
men?" 

"Clap  them  in  the  stocks,  ma'am,  and,  if  I  may  say  so,  'tis 
too  light  and  easy  a  punishment  for  such  deserving  ruffians." 

"Hush!  thou  means  well,  but  thou  knows  not  of  what  spirit 
thou  art.  Get  me  a  man;  such  another  as  thyself.  I  must 
follow  friend  Sinclair. " 

"Oh,  Mother!  thou  canst  not  put  foot  to  ground!"  cried  my 
little  mistress. 

"Nay,  I  must  go,  if  George  carries  me  in  his  hands,  but  with 
two  I  could  go  in  this  chair.  Away  with  thee,  George!" 

I  sped  to  the  mill,  which  seemed  mighty  empty  of  journeymen. 
Demas,  the  spoutsman,  was  sitting  upon  a  sack;  he  rose  as  I 
entered. 

"Where  is  Jeacocke  ?"  I  asked. 

"There!  Gearge,  'tis  not  for  the  likes  o'  me  to  saay.  Mebbe 
e'  awaay  down  street  —  on  his  own  business.  Mebbe  'e's  aloft. 
I'll  not  defaame  a  fellow  journeyman's  karicter.  No,  Gearge! 
If  some  'as  bin  and  took  time  'as  'ad  no  rights  so  for  to  do, 
whaat's  the  odds  to  me  ?  I  'm  mutual.  Whiles  the  mill  runs  I 
sticks  to  my  spouts,  gently  —  muddlin'  along. " 

"Confound  your  long  tongue,  Demas,  where  is  the  foreman  ?" 

"Thaat's  the  question.  I'm  neither  church  nor  dissent; 
Demas  '11  be  nayther  partial  nor  impartial,  sez  I  —  " 

"He!  he!"  cackled  the  senile  falsetto  of  old  Widdas  from 
his  heap  of  broken  empties.  "I  'members  my  feyther  tellin' 
when  first  they  Quaakers  coom  to  Milton.  They  draawed  'em 
through  the  watter,  they  did;  thro' t'  mill-taail;  he  seen  'em. 
He!  he!" 

But  the  changed  note  of  the  mill,  the  dying  cadence  of 
stopping  wheels  caught  my  ear;  through  a  window  I  saw  the 


CHAPTER  TFTENTr-SIX 


tail-water  settling.  Demas  caught  the  sound  too,  and  leapt  to 
his  levers  to  lift  the  runners  off  his  bed-stones.  "I'm  mutual," 
he  squeaked,  "neither  partial —  "  but  I  waited  to  hear  no 
more  as  I  ran  to  the  wheel-house.  Truth  to  say,  the  man  was 
a  trimmer,  upon  the  swing  between  church  and  chapel,  as  he 
descried  his  advantage,  and  had  been  converted  and  lapsed  and 
again  reclaimed  time  and  again.  Just  now  he  was  in  slack  water, 
secretly  bitter  against  masters  who  had  detected  his  pilferings 
and  —  forgiven  them. 

The  sunshine  poured  through  the  open  door  of  the  wheel- 
house  upon  the  dripping  floats  of  the  great  under-shot  slowing 
to  a  stand.  Jeacocke,  crowbar  in  hand,  had  lowered  the  shutter 
and  stopt  the  mill.  He  turned  upon  me  darkly.  "And  where's 
the  rest  ?"  He  set  down  the  crow  and  threw  out  empty  hands. 
"How  is  my  master's  mill  to  be  kept  running  if  every  man  an' 
laad  goes  forth  to  a  hubbleshow  ?  I've  shet  down,  and  they  shall 
hear  for  why!" 

"Leave  all,  come  with  me;  'tis  the  mistress  calls  for  you," 
I  said. 

Bearing  the  chair  easily  between  us  we  came  unnoticed  to 
the  crowd  about  the  stocks.  The  three  sat  in  the  bilboes, 
their  wrists  and  ankles  fast,  for  the  thing  was  not  of  our  south- 
country  pattern,  and  served  for  pillory  as  well.  The  faces  of 
the  brothers  Proctor  wore  lively  expressions  of  anger  and  fear. 
Long  had  they  lorded  it  over  the  village,  making  themselves 
as  offensive  as  they  dared  to  my  masters,  and  soundly  detested 
by  all.  The  tidings  of  their  fall  had  flown  abroad  with  incredible 
swiftness,  near  every  soul  in  the  place  seemed  afoot,  gaffers 
and  gammers  hobbling  up  to  gnash  toothless  gums  at  the 
tyrant  who  stinted  the  church  doles,  whilst  the  boys  who  hated 
the  constable  for  his  severities  to  them  as  beadle,  were  gathering 
garbage  for  his  benefit. 

Bill  Telfer,  the  village  sot,  who  had  sat  in  the  stocks  himself 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

last  month  for  his  sins,  was  there  with  a  pailful  of  drowned 
pups,  and  seemed  to  be  making  good  practice.  As  we  broke 
into  the  ring  the  last  of  the  litter  took  the  constable  full  across 
the  mouth  and  dropt  into  his  lap. 

"Make  way,  good  folks!"  bawled  Jeacocke,  and  way  was 
made,  all  agreeing  that  Madam  Ellwood  had  as  good  a  right 
as  any  to  the  show. 

"To  friend  Sinclair!"  she  said,  and  we  had  set  her  chair 
beside  him  before  he  knew  of  our  presence.  Seldom  surely  has 
a  man  been  more  surprised;  whipping  off  his  hat  he  made  her 
an  obeisance  fit  for  a  duchess,  and  seeing  her  lips  move  inaud- 
ibly  where  all  were  talking,  laughing,  hooting  and  jeering,  he 
raised  hand  and  voice  and  called  for  silence. 

"Madam,"  said  he,  "you  do  us  too  much  honour;  may  I  ask 
your  pleasure  ?" 

"Friend  Sinclair,"  said  she,  "if  these  poor  men  are  punished 
upon  my  account,  I  beg  thee  to  set  them  at  liberty;  for  myself 
I  freely  forgive  them  —  freely!" 

Her  spirit  had  carried  her  thus  far,  now  it  failed.  With  out- 
stretched hands  still  trembling  from  her  fall,  and  with  tears 
trickling  down  her  pale  face,  she  bent  forward  silenced  by  her 
weakness.  The  vicar  was  visibly  moved. 

"Madam,  I  could  refuse  you  nothing  if  your  charity  did  not 
compel  my  consent!  .  .  .  'Fore  God, 'tis  a  wonder!  .  .  . 
Hear  to  this  lady,  ye  rascals!  She  has  made  herself  be  carried 
here  for  your  sakes.  She  begs  you  off!  Instead  of  bidding  me 
send  you  to  jail,  she  sets  you  free.  You  broke  her  house,  you 
flung  her  from  her  chair,  you  stole  her  goods,  and  what  does 
she  ?  She  forgives  you  !  .  .  .  Let  them  out. " 

He  turned,  and  making  a  lane  for  us  through  the  press,  walk- 
ed beside  us  to  the  house,  hat  in  hand,  a  wonder  to  his  parish. 
At  the  door  he  bowed  once  more,  and  was  for  taking  his  leave, 
but  my  mistress,  now  herself  again,  constrained  him  in  to  rest 

[216] 


CHAPTER  TJTENTT-SIX 


himself  and  to  eat,  for  dinner  was  being  served.  He  accepted 
with  the  best  grace. 

I  had  baited  his  horse,  washed  myself  at  the  pump,  and  was 
making  for  my  lodging  when  waylaid  by  my  little  mistress. 
"Mother  desires  thee  to  join  us,  George."  "That  is  most  kind 
of  mother,  but  what  will  her  guest  say?"  She  laughed  merrily 
and  helped  me  beat  the  worst  of  the  dust  from  my  clothes  with 
a  clean  besom. 

"Ah!  this  is  the  young  Samson!"  said  the  great  man,  quizzing 
me  as  I  entered;  yet  having  looked  me  over  without  disapproval 
he  offered  me  his  hand,  which  surprised  me. 

"As  I  was  saying,  Mrs.  Ellwood,  here  am  I  but  half-warm 
in  my  seat,  and  what  with  my  four  livings,  have  my  hands  full. 
How  this  rate  would  affect  you  had  escaped  me  at  the  meeting, 
and  I  rode  here  this  day  to  make  the  matter  right.  Of  a  levy 
I  never  dreamed;  the  thing  should  have  been  impossible.  The 
demand-notes  were  but  just  issued,  and  no  warrant  so  much  as 
applied  for.  The  lawlessness  of  our  people  where  you  Friends 
are  concerned  is  astounding!  The  rapacity  of  those  fellows! 
They  had  seized  —  what  —  ?"  he  glanced  around  the  room  — 
"At  a  guess  now,  a  hundred  pounds'-worth  of  goods  to  sat- 
isfy a  ten-pound  demand!  Ah  I  know  them  —  not  a  shilling 
would  they  have  returned  you.  At  a  forced  sale  by  an  interested 
auctioneer  to  a  ring  of  his  cronies,  your  handsome  things 
would  have  barely  satisfied  the  rate  and  costs!  Never,  whilst 
I  hold  the  living,  shall  you  be  troubled  again. " 

My  mistress  thanked  him  and  catching  my  eye  bent  her  head 
in  the  silent  grace-before-meat  of  the  Friends,  and  then  bade 
me  carve. 

"If  all  my  brother  parsons  had  enjoyed  the  same  experience 
as  I,  madam,  'tis  little  ill-usage  you  Friends  would  suffer  at 
their  hands.  Yes,  this  is  not  the  first  —  nor  the  fiftieth  — 
meal  I  have  eaten  at  a  Friend's  table!" 

[217] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

We  looked  the  surprise  we  felt,  for  social  intercourse  be- 
tween men  of  his  cloth  and  the  Friends  was  unknown,  and  he 
was  the  first  that  I  had  heard  speak  of  the  society  civilly,  or  by 
any  other  designation  than  its  nickname. 

"Yes,"  he  resumed,  "but  before  I  tell  you  my  story  I  have 
an  apology  to  offer.  I  perceive  by  the  plan  of  this  house  that 
my  al  fresco  court  of  justice  was  held  within  your  hearing, 
madam.  If  any  heated  or  profane  expression  of  mine  wounded 
your  ears,  or  the  ears  of  this  young  lady,  I  ask  your  pardons, 
and  the  pardon  of  Almighty  God,  for  indeed  I  came  somewhat 
late  in  life  to  my  holy  office,  and  a  bad  old  trick  of  swearing  still 
clings  to  my  tongue.  God  forgive  me! 

"But,  for  my  respect  for  your  sect,  ma'am;  'twas  like  this. 
I  was  bred  to  the  bar,  ate  my  dinners  and  rode  the  Northern 
circuit.  The  e  were  wildish  doings  and  much  drinking  of 
needless  toasts  at  mess,  and  as  young  blood  when  inflamed  with 
good  wine  is  hot,  ma'am,  there  were  quarrels,  and  men  were 
called  out. 

"  'Twas  at  York  Assizes,  two-and-twenty  years  ago  last 
Michaelmas,  that,  to  my  shame,  I  fell  out  with  an  industrious, 
painstaking  young  counsel,  whose  poverty  earned  my  contempt, 
whose  growing  success  touched  my  spleen,  for  I  was  well-to-do, 
idle,  and  seldom  briefed.  And  so,  and  so,  my  young  lady  (  for  I 
see  by  your  eyes  ye  like  news  of  the  wicked  world  ye  will  never 
see! )  I  put  an  affront  upon  this  gentlemen  and  was  called  upon 
to  give  satisfaction. 

"  We  met  in  a  little  plashy  meadow  at  the  back  of  a  fine 
tall  house  in  the  hamlet  of  Holgate,  outside  the  Walls,  not 
one  of  our  mess  being  native  to  those  parts  or  knowing  the  dis- 
trict; and  there  at  our  first  discharge  were  both  down,  hard 
hit.  I  remember  very  little  more,  but  have  been  told  that 
the  whole  affair  was  so  irregular  and  ill-guided  that  the  law 
was  like  to  have  taken  strict  account  of  it;  and  so  our  seconds 

[218] 


CHAPTER  TITENTr-SIX 


thought,  for  upon  the  surgeon  declaring  us  to  be  as  good  as 
dead  men,  they  lost  their  heads  and  ran,  and  the  rascally  saw- 
bones followed  to  get  his  fee;  and  we,  lying  there  in  our  blood, 
came  near  to  making  the  fellow's  prognosis  good,  but  were 
succoured  by  a  Quaker  —  I  beg  your  pardon,  ma'am,  a  Friend 
—  ah!  and  he  was  a  Friend! 

"  'Twas  upon  this  gentleman's  ground  we  were  trespassing 
(  shooting  without  license,  my  young  lady ) !  He  comes  up  at 
the  sound  of  shots,  finds  a  worthy  young  fellow  and  a  worthless 
scapegrace  busily  bleeding  to  death,  makes  turniquets  of  his 
neck-cloth,  halloas  for  his  groom  and  gardeners,  has  us  carried 
to  his  house,  and,  in  a  word,  nurses  us  back  to  life. " 

"To  a  better  life,  I  trust,"  said  my  mistress. 

"Amen!  ma'am!  to  a  better  and  eventually  to  an  eternal 
life  through  Christ's  merits."  He  bent  his  head  in  silence 
whilst  a  man  might  count  five.  "We  lay  in  one  room  for  weeks, 
having  the  best  care  and  skill  that  money  and  an  excellent 
heart  could  supply.  I,  tho'  shot  high  up  in  the  thigh,  made  the 
better  recovery.  My  poor  friend  —  for  we  have  been  friends 
from  that  hour  —  suffered  torments  with  his  knee,  and  I,  lying 
and  seeing  his  misery,  suffered  too,  as  was  right  and  but  after 
my  desert. " 

"And  I  trust  under  Providence,  my  friend,  that  the  dis- 
cipline was  blest  to  you  both, "  said  my  mistress. 

"I  trust  so,  ma'am,  but  can  speak  the  better  for  myself. 
Those  two  months  made  another  man  of  me;  not  all  at  once, 
indeed,  but  I  had  received  somewhat  into  my  system  beside 
the  ball,  something  that  left  a  distaste  to  what  I  had  relished, 
and  a  relish  for  what  I  had  despised,  and  at  length  drew  me 
from  the  bar  to  the  church.  And  here  you  have  me  as  your 
vicar,  and,  if  I  may  make  my  heart's  intentions  plain  at  a  first 
introduction,  your  good  friend,  if  you  will  permit  me,  for 
what  I  owe  to  your  society  is  more  than  I  can  repay." 

[219] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF 


The  lady's  look  was  sufficient  assent. 

"And  the  poor  young  counsel  ?"  asked  Miss  Phoebe. 

"Ah,  'twas  a  sad  set-back  for  him  in  his  profession,  and 
fell  at  a  time  when  he  could  ill  afford  it,  for  his  family  had  been 
brought  to  poverty  by  the  practice  of  some  wealthier  relations. 
But,  such  was  his  heart,  my  dear  young  lady,  and  such  were 
his  parts,  that  there  was  no  keeping  him  from  the  front,  and 
he  was  soon  known  as  the  best  stuff  gown  on  the  circuit,  and 
might  have  taken  silk  two  or  three  years  before  he  did,  had  he 
thought  it  prudent  to  drop  so  much  practice  as  the  change 
might  entail.  Oh,  he  is  knighted  years  since,  and  upon  the 
bench  and  a  great  man.  You  will  have  heard  of  Sir  Algernon 
Maskelyne-Fanshawe.  " 

Yes,  the  ladies  had  heard  of  that  eminent  person.  Had  he  not 
rid  the  northern  circuit  the  previous  autumn  ?  His  masterly 
charge  to  the  grand  jury  at  the  York  Assizes  was  still  in  all 
mouths,  it  had  even  reached  the  ears  of  Miss  Phoebe.  I  ex- 
perienced a  twinge  of  fool's  jealousy:  here  again,  as  at  Ouseby, 
the  only  Fanshawe  known  was  the  junior  branch.  My  father, 
the  head  of  his  race,  with  his  public  services,  name  and  titles, 
was  overshadowed  and  belittled  by  the  genius  of  this  new 
man,  a  mere  puisne  judge  with  a  fire-new  knighthood. 

Aye,  but  what  a  man!  The  cold,  clear-cut  face  of  this  distant 
kinsman  came  up  before  me  as  I  sate;  I  had  seen  it  but  twice, 
once  beside  the  road  at  Huntingdon  as  he  rode  to  his  court- 
house behind  his  javelin-men,  and  again,  more  recently,  in  a 
glare  of  linklights  and  a  wetness  of  fog  upon  that  memorable 
night  in  York  City. 


]220] 


PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

CHAPTER  TWENTY-SEVEN 
THE  LIFTING  OF  THE  CLOUD 


A  SPELL  of  quiet  weather  followed  this  storm,  during 
which,  with  failing  water  and  a  low  stock  of  wheat, 
we  ran  the  mill  upon  half-time  and  awaited  our 
masters'  return. 

During  these  quiet  days  the  cloud  settled  down  closely 
upon  my  spirit,  and  once  more  I  was  persuaded  that  the  Divine 
pity  was  not  for  me,  and  this  time  the  precise  cause  of  my 
reprobation  seemed  evident. 

You  may  know  that  there  are  certain  Scriptures  which  refer 
to  "a  sin  which  is  unto  death,"  for  which  prayer  itself,  it 
is  to  be  supposed,  is  unavailing;  also  a  sin  against  the  Holy 
Ghost,  for  which  there  is  neither  forgiveness  in  this  world 
nor  in  that  which  is  to  come. 

These  appalling  texts,  about  which  theologians  have  dis- 
puted of  old,  and  will  dispute,  I  suppose,  until  interrupted 
by  the  crack  of  doom,  have  exercised  a  baleful  influence  upon 
humanity;  for  whereas  no  blasphemous  rake,  that  ever  I  heard 
tell  of,  has  given  them  a  thought,  they  have  preyed  like  can- 
cers upon  the  imaginations  of  some  of  the  holiest  and  most 
innocent  of  mankind,  of  which  the  fate  of  that  scholarly  saint 
and  ingenious  poet,  Mr.  William  Cowper,  is  an  instance. 

My  life,  though  neither  holy  nor  innocent,  had  been  cer- 

[221] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITT 

tainly  no  worse  than  that  of  my  fellows,  save  in  one  particular. 
When  a  lower  boy  at  Eton  I  had  been  led  aside  by  an  evil  young- 
ster and  made  to  repeat  after  him  some  abracadabra  of  wicked- 
ness which,  when  I  had  done,  the  imp  assured  me  was  a  curse 
against  the  Holy  Ghost  which  could  never  be  forgiven.  This 
childish  naughtiness,  which  troubled  me  but  little  at  the  time, 
and  had  lain  for  years  clean  forgotten,  now  cast  up  against  me 
like  a  nine-days  drowned  corpse  and  stared  me  down. 

If  ever  any  repented  I  did.  Neither  tears  nor  prayers  did  I 
spare  when  the  fit  was  upon  me.  But  to  confess  seemed  im- 
possible, and  to  what  purpose  ?  No  counsellor  could  arrest 
the  wheels  of  judgment;  my  sentence  stood.  To  own  my  guilt 
would  have  led  (  as  I  thought  )  to  my  being  driven  from 
among  men,  a  lost  soul,  self-condemned,  branded  as  with  the 
sign  of  Cain.  Nor  could  I  endure  to  think  upon  the  distress 
this  disclosure  would  cause  to  my  little  mistress  and  her  family. 
For  her  sake  and  theirs  I  determined  to  keep  a  calm  face  to- 
ward the  world  to  my  last  breath. 

So  I  bore  my  misery  as  best  I  might,  but  not  unmarked 
by  my  gentle  master.  Once  and  again  Mr.  Ellwood  looked  upon 
me,  giving  me  the  chance  of  opening  my  mind  to  him,  and  when 
I  withheld  my  confidence,  ceased  not  his  kindness  nor  changed 
his  manner  to  me  at  all. 

Once  upon  a  day  when  my  countenance  must  have  shown  my 
inward  wretchedness,  he  called  me  to  him  in  the  garden  and 
showed  me  his  watch,  "  'Tis  an  old  friend,  George,  and  has 
long  been  faithful,  but  is  ailing  from  some  little  jar  or  in- 
trusion (  and  the  dust  of  our  trade  is  hard  upon  a  watch,  as 
thou  knows  ).  Now  what  wouldst  thou  advise  ? " 

"Indeed,  I  have  no  skill  in  watches,"  said  I,  "but  there 
is  a  clock-maker  in  Beverley  whom  Abel  speaks  well  of  — 

"  But  I  shall  not  be  in  Beverley  again  this  month,  which  entails 
waiting.  Thou  wouldst  not  entrust  it  to  our  millwright?" 

[222] 


CHAPTER  TWENTT-SErEN 


"Why,  no!"  I  laughed,  "Jowett  is  a  good  man  in  his  own 
line,  I  think,  but  such  small  work  is  beyond  him. " 

"Nor  our  Milton  smith,  George  ?" 

Then  I  laughed  no  more,  for  by  his  eye  and  voice  I  saw  this 
was  a  parable. 

"When  it  is  a  delicate  matter,  and  an  inward  matter, 
and  the  trouble  is  deep-seated,  it  is  wise  to  wait  for  the 
right  hand,  eh,  George  ?  Even  though  that  hand  may  not 
be  forthcoming  to-day,  nor  to-morrow,  nor  for  many  days, 
eh,  George  ?" 

I  nodded:  my  heart  being  full;  but  this  conversation  sensibly 
lifted  the  weight  of  my  loneliness,  for  now  I  knew  that  my 
sadness  was  not  a  matter  indifferent  to  my  friends. 

That  neither  was  it  indifferent  to  a  higher  power  I  had 
the  best  of  evidence  at  this  time  but  not  the  wit  to  read  it. 
Thus  one  day,  whilst  looping  the  running-noose  of  chain  around 
the  neck  of  a  sack,  my  thumb  was  caught,  and  the  hoisting- 
tackle  running  at  great  speed,  I  was  unable  to  release  myself 
and  was  drawn  up  swiftly  to  the  top  of  the  building  through 
four  sets  of  trap-doors,  and  there,  by  God's  mercy,  found 
alive,  nor  was  my  thumb  the  worse  for  its  ill-usage. 

When  I  considered  that  the  traps  were  made  no  bigger  than 
conveniently  to  permit  the  passage  of  a  sack,  and  that  I, 
clinging  to  this  sack,  had  passed  four  in  almost  as  many  sec- 
onds without  breaking  my  skull  or  tearing  away  my  thumb,  I 
was  for  the  moment  impressed  with  a  sense  of  Divine  protec- 
tion, but,  block  that  I  was,  presently  lost  it  again. 

Now  at  that  time  there  was  a  custom  among  the  Quakers 
for  some  of  their  preachers,  both  men  and  women,  to  pay  what 
were  called  "  religious  visits."  Thus,  a  minister  residing  (  let 
us  say)  at  Cirencester  would  "  feel  it  upon  his  heart "  to  visit 
Friends  in  Northumberland,  not  only  to  preach  in  their  meet- 
ing-houses, but  also  to  stop  a  night  here,  and  to  pay  a  call 

[  223  ] 


• MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITT 

there,  in  the  homes  of  the  Friends  of  that  neighbourhood 
for  prayer  and  edification. 

This  simple  missionary  method  was  justified  by  results, 
the  traveller  being  the  guest  of  different  pious  householders 
in  turn,  and  sharing  in  the  family  life  of  those  to  whom  he 
had  felt  drawn  to  minister. 

Under  these  circumstances  his  ministry  (  preaching  )  would 
often  be  extremely  penetrating  and  effectual;  most  of  these 
itinerant  missioners  (  both  men  and  women  )  being  persons  of 
experience  and  insight,  and  combining  wisdom  with  simplicity. 

In  this  connection  I  could  relate  curious  incidents  of  spiritual 
discernment  of  things  kept  secret,  and  the  alleviation  of  hidden 
needs  almost  surpassing  belief,  yet  as  well  attested  as  the  most 
ordinary  fact,  but  will  confine  myself  to  the  personal  experience 
which  follows. 

It  seems  that  a  certain  Friend  travelling  with  a  letter  of 
introduction,  or,  as  Friends  would  say  "with  a  minute"  from 
some  meeting  near  Hitchin,  was  to  pay  his  visit  to  the  Ellwood 
household  upon  a  certain  day  in  June,  all  of  which,  if  I  had  been 
told,  I  had  forgotten,  and  was  at  work  in  the  mill  when  I  thought 
I  heard  my  master's  voice  call  me  without,  and,  leaving  my 
sack  upon  the  hooks  ( for  I  was  emptying  the  troughs  ) 
crossed  the  yard  and  ran  up  the  garden,  dusty  as  I  was,  striking 
the  meal  from  my  bare  arms,  and,  as  afterwards  appeared, 
missing  a  messenger  from  the  house  who  was  seeking  me  in  the 
office.  Seeing  no  one,  I  approached  the  porch,  and  thence  a 
voice,  not  my  master's,  reached  my  ear,  speaking  from  the  par- 
lour. Entering  the  hall  I  found  the  whole  family  gathered  as 
at  a  meeting  or  service,  and,  being  still  under  the  impression 
that  I  was  wanted,  drew  near  to  the  open  door,  going  tiptoe, 
with  head  bent  and  silently  in  my  list  slippers.  Now  a  folding- 
screen  stood  inside  the  door  of  that  room  and  a  stool  behind  it, 
to  which  Abel,  who  sat  just  within,  motioned  me  and  presently 

[224] 


CHAPTER  TWENTT-SErEN 


the  voice  of  the  speaker  was  hushed.  That  my  coming  was  seen 
by  him  was  impossible,  nor  do  I  consider  it  in  any  degree  likely 
that  he  heard  me  enter. 

I  had  so  far  gathered  nothing  of  his  address,  nor  knew 
his  name  or  person.  During  the  silence  which  now  fell  upon 
the  assembly  my  cloud  darkened  upon  me,  and  I  was  bowed  to- 
gether as  by  an  unendurable  burden  of  apprehension  of  the 
judgment  to  come.  As  I  sat  thus,  the  sweat  starting  upon  me 
and  my  hands  clenched  as  if  by  a  convulsion,  and  I  too  cast 
down  and  hopeless  even  to  put  up  my  usual  prayer,  "Enter 
not  into  judgment  with  Thy  servant!"  the  preacher  rose  and 
broke  the  deep  and  terrible  silence  with  these  words :  "Let  the 
wicked  forsake  his  way  and  the  unrighteous  man  his  thought, 
and  let  him  turn  unto  the  Lord  and  He  will  have  mercy  upon  him, 
and  to  our  God  and  He  will  abundantly  pardon." 

What  more  he  would  have  said,  or  whether  this  was  the 
extent  of  his  message  I  know  not,  for  something  cracked 
within  me  and  my  burden  fell;  light  broke  in,  and  my  cloud 
parted.  I  sprang  to  my  full  height  and,  being  tall,  saw  over 
the  top  of  the  screen  the  face  of  the  Quaker  who  had  coun- 
selled me  upon  the  coach  at  Huntingdon.  Our  eyes  met  and 
he  read  in  mine  the  fulfillment  of  his  concern  for  that  house- 
hold. No  word  was  said  by  him  or  any  other;  for  all  that 
appeared  in  my  master's  face,  this  might  have  been  by  his 
arrangement  and  the  most  natural  thing  in  the  world.  The 
preacher  rose  and,  moving  around  the  screen,  took  me  in  si- 
lence by  the  hand  and  led  me  forth  to  the  garden. 

I  have  been  told  that  at  his  first  rising  he  was  sensible 
that  all  the  household  was  not  present,  and  further  that  the 
one  who  was  absent  was  he  to  whom  he  was  sent,  and  that  pres- 
ently he  felt  his  lips  opened  and  that  when  my  face  appeared 
above  the  screen  he  knew  within  himself  that  his  work  there 
was  accomplished, 

[225] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

He  led  me  to  a  little  summer-house  at  the  end  of  a  pleached 
alley,  all  overgrown  with  jasmine  and  monthly  rose.  Here 
I  told  him  of  the  loosening  of  my  spiritual  burden,  sitting  at 
times  and  at  times  pacing  back  and  forth  (  for  I  was  as  one 
released  from  leg-irons,  to  whom  each  step  is  as  a  leap,  and  who 
seems  to  go  on  feathers). 

Ah,  the  gentleness  of  this  good  man,  and  his  patience  toward 
me  a  stranger!  For  hours  we  sat  or  walked  there.  Once  my 
little  mistress  appeared  shyly  to  bid  us  to  a  meal,  but  he,  smiling, 
waved  her  away.  Later  she  returned  with  a  tray  set  with  bread, 
cheese  and  beer,  and  what  we  partook  of  together  was  to  me 
as  some  divine  manna,  and  all  the  choirs  of  heaven  sang  in 
those  garden  bushes. 

"Mr.  Penington,"  said  I,  for  this  was  his  name,  "you  told 
me  my  future  once,  and  it  has  come  true  to  a  marvel.  Have  you 
any  light  upon  my  next  road  ? " 

'Twas  by  no  wisdom  of  my  own  that  I  spoke  then  as  I  did, " 
said  he,  looking  upon  me  steadily  with  his  clear,  grave,  kindly 
eyes.  "No,  my  friend,  thy  times  are  in  His  hand,  but  I  make 
no  doubt  that  having  moulded  and  fashioned  and  tempered 
His  tool  He  will  presently  use  it. " 

"Me  ?"  I  whispered.  "What  can  /  do  ?" 

"That  will  be  shewn  thee,  my  son;  but  it  will  be  something, 
if  I  mistake  not,  which  7  could  not  do.  Only  be  willing  and 
faithful  to  the  Inner  Light. " 

"And  now,"  he  resumed  after  a  pause,  still  holding  my  hand, 
"  is  there  no  first  step  ?  Thy  heart  overflows  with  joy,  thou 
wouldst  offer  thy  love,  thyself,  and  the  work  of  thy  hands  to 
Him  who  bought  thee;  but  —  thou  knowest  the  Scripture  — 
'First  be  reconciled  to  thy  brother,  then  go  and  offer  thy  gift. 
Is  it  so  with  thee  ?  a  pardon  to  seek  or  to  grant  somewhere  ? " 

"Phoebe,"  said  I  that  evening  as  we  sat  in  the  summer- 
house,  she  sewing  and  I  empty-handed,  for  I  was  never  too  fond 

[226] 


CHAPTER  TWENTT-SEFEN 


of  my  book,  "  suppose  you  had  quarrelled  with  your  father  and 
mother  — "  her  face  lightened  with  inward  amusement;  "sup- 
pose, I  say,  and  —  yes  —  had  run  away  from  home — " 

"Well,  George,  it  isn't  easy  to  suppose,  but  —  go  on." 

"And  after  a  year  and  a  half  you  thought  better  of  it —  *' 

"Or  worse  of  myself?" 

"  Both,  Phoebe,  better,  far  better  of  them,  and  worse,  much 
worse  of  myself;  that  is  just  my  case;  and  I  want  to  know  how 
to  begin  my  letter.  How  would  you  start  ? " 

She  had  laid  down  her  seam  and  was  looking  upon  me  with 
great,  sorrowful  eyes  of  wonder  and  reproach. 

"Oh,  George!  dear  George!  how  could  thee?  Not  one 
letter  all  these  eighteen  months  ? " 

"None  from  them.  I  wrote  six  times  at  first,  but  there  were 
no  answers  —  none;  and  so  I  grew  sullen,  Phoebe,  and  have 
writ  no  more;  not  even  to  my  mother. "  I  hung  my  head. 

"  Poor,  poor  mother!  O,  let  us  write  to-night;  I  will  fetch  pen 
and  paper  and  we  will  do  it  here. " 

There  was  a  great  oak-stool  in  that  summer-house  bedded  in 
the  earth  and  levelled  to  the  height  of  a  table,  and  theron 
we  hammered  my  letter  out,  and  when  it  was  done  to  her  liking 
I  fetched  my  father's  frank  and  copied  it  all  fairly,  and  slept 
that  night  with  the  last  of  my  load  lifted  off  my  conscience. 


(227] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A 

PERSON  OF   QUALITY 

CHAPTER  TWENTY-EIGHT 
AN  ADVENTURE  AND  NEWS 


WHETHER  the  new  penny  post  is  destined  to  be  all 
that  public  advantage  which  the  pertinacious  and 
persuasive  Mr.  Hill  protests,  my  young  relatives 
may  live  to  see,  and  I  shall  refrain  from  prophesying. 

It  is  certainly  already  a  considerable  private  convenience 
to  persons  of  small  incomes,  but  until  the  common  people  have 
been  taught  to  read  and  write  can  hardly  be  much  gain  to 
the  poor. 

In  the  year  1799  the  writing  of  a  letter  was  still  an  accom- 
plishment and  the  getting  it  posted  something  of  an  event. 
Letters  between  the  North  of  England  and  the  South  were 
few  because  expensive,  and,  being  so  costly,  those  franked  by 
members  of  either  House  of  Parliament  were  closely  scru- 
tinised. The  forgery  of  a  frank  was  the  commonest  of  frauds 
because  the  easiest  to  effect  and  the  most  difficult  to  trace. 

My  young  mistress,  to  whom  alone  I  had  confided  my  family, 
was  impatient  to  see  the  despatch  of  our  joint  handiwork, 
and  must  accompany  me  to  the  postmaster's  office,  a  public 
institution  rare  in  country  places,  and  which  Milton-on- 
Derwent  owed  to  I  know  not  what,  for  the  business  it  did  was 
of  the  lightest. 

I  have  said  that  the  postmaster  was  vicar's  churchwarden. 

[228] 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-EIGHT 


Since  his  rebuff  in  the  matter  of  the  distraint  the  man  had 
borne  me  no  love.  When  we  entered  his  den  he  was  spelling 
through  a  month-old  gazette  to  his  brother  the  constable,  who, 
seeing  me,  regarded  us  sourly,  and  lent  his  ear  again  to  the 
reader.  The  half-sheet  with  the  foreign  intelligence  lay  upon 
the  counter.  I  remember  that  it  told  of  Massena's  retreat  before 
the  Austrians  and  the  battle  of  Zurich,  matters  too  far  afield 
for  these  clodpoles  who  were  engrossed  in  doings  nearer  home. 

"Wha-at?"  growled  the  constable,"  They've  robbed  t' 
mail  again?" 

"Aye,  laad,  nigh-hand  to  Doncaster  this  time.  And  'tis  Sam 
Smith,  as  usual.  Heark  to  this,  now,  'One  hoonderd  guineas 
reward.'  Eh,  but  a  would  laike  fine  to  tooch  t'brass!"  he  stum- 
bled through  the  printed  description  of  the  thief  and  re- 
sumed his  comment:  "Mooch  t'saame  as  before,  tha  hears; 
Quaaker  hat  and  coat  and  all;  a  wee,  fond-luiking,  thin-faaced, 
shotten  herring  of  a  feller  a  mun  be  to  luik  at.  Wheer  has  we 
seen  sooch  ?  eh,  Eli  ?"  the  postmaster  gloomed  askance  at  his 
brother,  whose  vacant,  beery  visage  expressed  small  intelligence, 
stubbly  chin,  blubber  lip  and  piggy  eye  leering  at  my  little 
mistress.  The  reader  keeping  a  dirty  finger  upon  the  line  fol- 
lowed the  glance;  some  gleam  of  malicious  understanding  passed 
between  the  pair. 

Since  neither  stirred  to  attend  to  our  business  I  civilly  in- 
terposed by  asking  the  elder  Proctor  to  take  charge  of  the  letter, 
which  he  did,  weighing  it  in  hand  and  examining  it  before  a 
a  candle  for  enclosures.  "  'Twill  be  seven-and-six  at  t'other 
end,"  quoth  he.  "Not  so,"  said  I,  "d'ye  not  see  the  frank  ?" 
He  grunted,  replaced  his  spectacles,  and  again  held  the  letter 
to  the  light,  and  indeed  the  cover  had  grown  soiled  and  creased 
in  its  travels,  and  my  father's  signature  was  small  and  fine. 

"Blakenham,  that's  B,"  said  he,  and  reached  himself  down 
a  reference-book  of  autographs  issued  to  postmasters.  His 

[229] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

brother  leaned  upon  his  shoulder,  they  whispered,  and  the  con- 
stable turning  laid  a  heavy  hand  upon  my  collar, 

"Yoong  shaaver,  I  'rest  ye  for  forgery  i'  the  king's  naame!" 

I  caught  my  breath;  the  absurdity  of  the  thing  tickled  me 
to  laughter. 

"Tha  grins,  doost  tha  ?  Aha!  thou'llt  grin  thro'  a  halter  in 
York  Castle,  ma  laad!" 

At  these  words  my  little  mistress  put  up  a  low  wail,  "Oh, 
George,  let  me  fetch  father!" 

"Noa! —  stop  wheer  tha  stands!  Tak  t'  wench  too,  Eli, 
she's  art  and  part,  I  charge  both!" 

The  constable  gript  the  child  as  she  fled  to  the  door,  but  this 
was  beyond  my  bearing.  I  caught  both  his  wrists  and  held  him 
helpless  until  Phoebe  was  well  upon  her  way.  When  a  few  min- 
utes later  her  father  and  brother  entered  they  found  me  ironed. 

The  postmaster  conscious  of  playing  a  great  part  with  a 
yet  greater  in  prospect,  magnified  his  office. 

'Tis  no  sort  o'  use  your  comin'  'ere,  Mr  Ellwood;  we've 
got  'im  at  last;  and  now  Vll  'ave  to  be  disposed  of  as  t'law 
directs.  'Tis  forgery,  and  there's  an  end  on't. " 

"O,  ye  can  speak  to  him  —  in  my  presence.  Mebbe  ye'd 
like  to  be  writin'  'is  last  dyin'  speech  and  confession  —  there's 
a  pen,  there.  .  .  .  No;  we'll  not  remove  the  irons; 
'twas  a  vi'lent  resistance  he  offered,  and  a  desprut  villain  he  is. 
Ye've  mooch  to  answer  for,  in  my  opinion,  for  bringin'  sooch 
into  t'parish  and  harbourin'  'm." 

"George,  what  is  this?" 

"They've  arrested  me  for  using  a  frank,  sir,  given  me  by  my 
father." 

"How  did  thy  father  obtain  it?" 

"He  sat  down  and  wrote  it,  sir;  he  is  the  Earl  of  Blaken- 
ham." 

The  effect  of  this  announcement  upon  my  employers  was 

[230] 


CHAPTER 


scarcely  noticeable.  I  stood  confest  the  son  of  an  earl;  they 
regarded  me  with  strong,  kindly  interest,  but  no  more  personal, 
kindly  and  strong  than  if  I  had  owned  to  being  the  son  of  a  con- 
vict. 

With  the  Proctors  my  words  worked  otherwise.  For  a  mo- 
ment they  gaped  upon  me  with  awed  faces,  the  innate  slavishness 
of  the  lower  class  of  Englishmen  palsied  them;  had  they  indeed 
bungled  the  affair  ?  Then  the  essential  baseness  of  common 
natures  appeared;  shifty  and  untrue  themselves,  they  saw 
shifts  and  untruths  in  everyone.  The  postmaster  guffawed: 

"Sounds  loikely,  Eli;  see  'is  'ands!"  My  fingers  were  cer- 
tainly unlike  those  of  a  gentleman  of  fashion. 

"T'  brass  is  as  mooch  mine  as  if  I  'ad  it  'ere!"  he  cried, 
slapping  his  breeches  pocket,  and  I  knew  he  alluded  to  the 
blood-money  paid  to  informers  upon  conviction. 

"There  is  a  mistake  somewhere,  my  friend,"  said  Mr. 
Ellwood;  "thou  canst  not  grant  bail,  nor  can  I  be  sworn  his 
bailsman,  yet  I  am  so  convinced  of  this  young  man's  innocence 
that  I  will  place  a  hundred  pounds  in  thy  hands  as  security 
for  his  appearance  if  thou  wilt  leave  thy  prisoner  in  mine. " 

But  to  this  my  captors  demurred,  refusing  even  to  remove 
my  irons.  Upon  my  way  to  the  village  lock-up  I  was  upheld 
by  the  company  of  Mr.  Ellwood,  and  before  the  door  closed 
upon  me  saw  Abel  start  to  fetch  the  parson. 

I  had  not  grown  reconciled  to  the  irksome  weight  and  con- 
straint of  the  manacles  when  the  key  groaned  in  the  lock,  and 
I  was  had  out  to  the  open  air  and  down  street  to  the  post- 
office.  My  young  master's  gig  was  beside  the  road  with  a 
lathered  beast  between  the  shafts;  three  tall  saddle-horses 
stood  in  the  shade  of  the  church  limes  in  charge  of  a  liveried 
man  whose  back  seemed  familiar  to  me. 

The  small,  dingy  room  was  overfull  for  so  warm  a  day. 
Mr.  Sinclair  and  his  brother  magistrate,  a  fine  red-faced 

[231] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

young  man,  still  under  thirty,  were  seated;  the  rest  of  us  stood: 
half  the  village  gaped  in  the  street  without;  the  Ellwoods  were 
alone  admitted  and  the  door  shut. 

Mr.  Sinclair  nodded  to  me  and  I  returned  his  courtesy. 
"Take  off  those  things,  Master  Constable, "  said  he. 

"Sir,  he  offered  vi'lent  resistance,"  objected  Elihu. 

"To  his  own  arrest,  or  to  your  rudeness  to  a  lady  ?  Off  with 
them,  sirrah!  'Twill  be  time  enough  to  chain  him  when  we 
have  committed  him.  What  is  the  charge,  Mr.  Postmaster  ? " 

Both  gentlemen  listened  with  concentrated  attention;  the 
younger  spoke, 

"And  now,  Mr.  Fanshawe,  if  that  be  your  name,  tell  us 
the  history  of  this  frank  of  yours. " 

I  told  it  but  lamely,  I  doubt,  being  nervously  anxious  to  tell 
the  exact  truth.  He  nursed  the  postmaster's  book  upon  his 
knee  and  passed  it  to  his  companion.  "Not  the  faintest  resem- 
blance; 'tis  not  a  case  of  a  good  quill  or  a  bad,  of  glazed  paper 
or  cartridge, "  said  he  in  chagrin. 

"May  I  see  that  book,  sir  ?"  said  I. 

He  placed  it  in  my  hands,  ignoring  the  hasty  and  half- 
checked  intervention  of  the  postmaster. 

"  But,  this  is  not  my  father's  hand ! "  I  cried. 
'Tis  Lord  Blakenham's,  anyway,  sir." 

"Not  a  bit  of  it;  'tis  Bramford's,  my  brother's. " 

"Bramford?  who  is  Bramford  ?"  asked  Mr.  Sinclair. 

"Courtesy  title,"  said  his  friend;  then  to  me, suddenly, "Who 
was  your  dame  ? " 

"Mrs.  Stokes,  "said  I. 

"What  house?"  said  he. 

"Glassdale's, "  I  replied  as  promptly. 

"Good;  I  fagged  Bramford;  do  you  remember  me?" 

"N — No,  but  you  must  be  'Old  Mandy;'  I  forget  your  proper 
name,  but  I  remember  your  ticking  Bramford  for  nailing  all  my 

[232] 


CHAPTER  T  JTENTT-EIGHT 


sock  the  first  day  I  came  up.  You  left  at  the  end  of  my  first 
half-term,  didn't  you  ?" 

"I  dare  say  I  did,  but  I've  clean  forgotten  you.  I  think 
he's  all  right,  Sinclair.  Wait  a  bit,  though.  You  say  you  are  a 
Fanshawe;  what's  your  blazon?" 

"Barry  of  eight,  erminois  and  gules,  is  our  coat,"  said  I,  but 
my  father  bears  the  Bluebottles  in  pretence,  for  my  mother  is 
heiress  of  the  Chorleys,  ye  know. " 

"I  don't;  but  I  dare  say  you  are  right.  You  are  a  gentleman, 
anyhow.  Now,  how  the  devil  did  you  get  hold  of  this  amazing 
frank  of  my  old  fag's  ? " 

"Sir!  you  never  fagged  my  father!  He  wrote  it;  I  saw  him 
write  it.  Do  you  think  I  should  address  a  letter  to  my  mother, 
to  Lady  Blakenham,  with  a  forgery  of  my  lord's  name  on  the 
cover  ? " 

He  gazed  upon  me  with  an  air  of  friendly  puzzlement,  and 
"Fellow!"  says  he  to  the  constable,  a  stout  man,  and  full  of 
beer,  "your  leathers  stink  damnably;  'twould  turn  the  stomach 
of  a  polecat!  Open  that  door,  man,  and  stand  outside!" 

"Hulloa!"  he  cried,  as  a  better  light  fell  upon  me  from  with- 
out, "Why,  as  I  live,  'tis  the  man  that  saved  my  master  stag! 
Forger  be  d  —  d!"  says  he,  "I'd  not  believe  it  of  him,  tho' 
I  saw  him  do  it!  See  here,  Sinclair,  this  is  an  old  Eton  man; 
he  can  get  a  spent  horse  over  the  pewyest  line  in  the  riding, 
and  whip  hounds  off  a  stag  that  is  cast  better  than  I  could 
myself,  and  —  heaven  forgive  me!  —  I  know  no  higher  praise! 
What!  hang  this  man  for  forging  a  pitiful  frank?  I'll  write 
him  as  many  as  he  will.  Give  me  a  pen,  sirrah!" 

"Now,  for  heaven's  sake,  my  dear  Mandeville,  leave  this 
to  me!"  laughed  the  parson,  hugely  diverted.  "I  am  as  hard 
to  convince  of  this  young  gentleman's  guilt  as  yourself,  and 
make  as  little  doubt  but  that  he  can  explain  everything; 
na'theless,  explain  it  he  must,  for  we  are  set  here  as  justices, 

[233] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITT 

and  must    hold  an  even  scale;   yes,  to  old  schoolmates  and 
good  men  over  a  country." 

"Why,  of  course,  that  is  right  enough!"  growled  Lord 
Mandeville  (.for  this  was  he),  forcing  his  fists  deep  into  his 
breeches  pockets. 

"And  now,  Mr.  Fanshawe,"  the  parson  turned  to  me  with  a 
mingling  of  kindness  and  firmness,  "We  have  reached  to  this; 
we  find  you  passing  a  frank  which  is  certainly  none  of  Lord 
Blakenham's;  yet  you  persist  you  had  it  from  the  earl,  and  that 
he  is  your  brother  —  " 

"My  father,  sir!" 

"Are  there  two  peerages  in  the  family?  A  moment,"  he 
turned  to  his  colleague,  "D'ye  know  when  the  present  earl 
succeeded  ? " 

"  A  twelvemonth  or  more, "  said  he. 

"Sir,"  said  the  parson,  "since  when  have  you  left  your 
home  ?  or  had  news  of  your  people  ?  Is  it  possible  that  you 
are  unapprised  of  the  death  of  your  father  ?" 

I  stood  as  one  bewildered;  the  possibility  of  such  a  calamity 
having  never  entered  my  head,  fool  that  I  was. 

My  Lord  Mandeville,  looking  fixedly  upon  me  to  see  how  I 
took  the  news,  grunted,  called  for  a  pen  and  scrawled  his 
frank  across  my  letter. 

"  Let  that  go,  Master  Postman,  by  the  next  mail.  Her  lady- 
ship will  be  pleased  to  hear  from  you,  sir.  Constable,  you  there! 
case  dismissed;  and  hark  ye,  sirrah!  handle  the  next  gentleman 
ye  come  across  differently.  .  .  .  And,  see  here,  Mr. 
Fanshawe,  whether  ye  wait  for  your  answer  or  would  set  off 
at  once,  I  should  esteem  it  an  honour  to  —  in  short,  sir,  look 
upon  me  as  your  banker. " 

He  gript  my  hand,  an  action  which  clinched  the  half-driven 
conviction  of  the  slow-witted  fellows,  place-men  both.  We 
passed  the  door  together  and  stood,  I  silent  and  full  of  whirling 

[234] 


CHAPTER  r  WENT Y -EIGHT 


thoughts,  regrets,  wonderments;  he  prattling  of  Eton  and  old 
names  and  between-while  bawling  for  his  horse.  The  groom 
led  it  up,  parting  the  crowd,  but  in  place  of  holding  bit  and 
off  stirrup  in  customary  style,  stood  gaping  and  grinning  upon 
me,  clicking  his  heels  together  and  saluting,  too,  in  soldierly 
wise!  It  was  Hymus,  my  faithful  Hymus,  in  the  Mandeville 
livery,  smug,  rosy,  and  in  good  liking,  bright  of  eye  and  brim- 
ming with  the  civil  self-respect  which  follows  appreciated 
service,  a  different  object  from  the  cowed,  half-starved  king's 
trooper  that  I  had  known. 

"Hay,  Hymus;  and  what  d'ye  know  of  this  gentleman? 
speak  up,  man!  Sinclair,  I  say!  d'ye  see  my  man  here  is 
prepared  with  testimony  to  character  ?  Ha!  ha!" 

"Why,  yes,  m'lord,  ye  may  say  all  that  and  more.  This 
here  gene'lman  be  Mr.  George  Fanshawe,  Cap'n  Fanshawe, 
my  old  cap'n,  m'lord,  and  the  best  friend  and  kindest  master 
as  ever  a  poor  soul  had. " 


1235] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A 

PERSON  OF  QUALITY 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-NINE 
ON   MY  HOME-COMING 


I  STOOD  in  the  porch  of  Bramford  Church  one  after- 
noon in  June,  having  left  my  horse  at  the  Angel 
to  bait.  I  had  ridden  past  the  park  gates,  for  my 
lady  would  be  at  her  dower-house  at  Sproughton,  two  miles 
beyond,  and  with  Blakenham  in  town  there  was  nought 
at  the  Hall  to  detain  me  from  her;  nor  anything  in  our  village 
that  I  cared  to  see  that  day,  save  my  father's  tomb,  to  which 
filial  respect  demanded  a  visit. 

My  mother  would  not  approve  my  neglecting  it,  even  to 
press  on  to  herself. 

By  the  chances  of  the  road  I  had  met  not  a  soul  whom  I 
knew,  though  to  be  sure,  at  a  bridle-path's  end  between 
Needham  and  Claydon  I  had  seen  the  back  of  a  lady  riding 
quickly,  and,  despite  the  thick  white  dust,  had  felt  sure  that  I 
had  just  missed  encountering  the  Marquise  de  la  Rochemesnil. 
At  another  time  my  heart  had  beaten  at  the  thought  of  meeting 
Lucille,  and  my  old  friend  would  have  been  pleased  enough 
to  have  seen  me,  a  holloa  would  have  stayed  her,  but  my  first 
greeting  was  due  to  my  mother. 

I  had  followed  the  mill  lane  at  the  back  of  the  hamlet, 
had  listened  to  the  rumble  of  the  stones  from  within  the  dusty 
door  with  instructed  ears.  All  seemed  small,  but  otherwise  my 

[236] 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-NINE 


unaltered.  I  experienced  an  unreasonable  surprise  that  months 
of  absence  had  wrought  so  few  amendments.  But  it  was  I 
that  had  changed. 

The  hay  being  about,  and  all  the  place  in  the  hay,  I  had  not 
happened  upon  a  soul,  and  lifting  the  church  latch,  uncovered 
and  entered  the  cool,  hollow  old  place  very  much  at  my  ease. 

It  was  strange  to  think  of  him  lying  there,  but,  force  my 
feeling  how  I  would,  and  chasten  my  impiety  as  soundly  as  it 
deserved,  the  fact  remained  that  I  was  made  thoughtful,  specu- 
lative perhaps,  but  hardly  saddened  by  my  loss  [  and  now  at 
the  close  of  a  long  life,  during  which,  as  I  trust,  I  have  displayed 
some  heart  and  right  feeling,  I  can  still  find  excuses  for  my  in- 
sensibility. 1858  ]. 

My  father  had  taken  little  pleasure  in  my  infancy.  Bram- 
ford,  as  heir  to  the  title,  had  engrossed  his  solicitude,  and  in 
him  his  hopes  had  centred. 

My  lord  was  of  Mr.  Pitt's  following,  a  Parliament  man, 
full  and  busy,  with  ambitions  for  himself  and  his  race.  He 
lived  a  life  for  the  most  part  away  from  his  estates,  which 
left  him  small  leisure  to  cultivate  the  acquaintance  of  a  dull 
gawk  of  a  country  lad  with  whom  he  had  scarce  a  taste  or  idea 
in  common.  Of  my  two-and-twenty  years  how  much,  or  how 
little  ( I  marvelled  ),  had  I  spent  in  his  company  ?  And  this 
being  so,  and  a  child  so  far  resembling  a  money-box  that  one 
cannot  reasonably  expect  to  take  out  of  it  what  one  has  not  put 
in,  my  lord  having  never  discovered  an  especial  affection  for 
me  whilst  he  lived,  got  no  tears  from  me  when  dead. 

Our  little  church  stands  well,  a  bend  of  the  Gipping  stream 
curving  around  its  acre  at  the  chancel  end.  Built  wide  of  the 
village,  meadows  come  close  to  the  grave-yard  wall.  As  I  stood 
beneath  the  oaken  roof-beams,  I  could  hear  the  scythes  in  the 
grass  and  cheery  calls  and  laughter  of  man  and  lass;  could 
hear,  too,  the  faint  screams  of  swifts  wheeling  far  aloft  as 

[237] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF 


their  flight  is  in  fair  weather.  The  air  without  hummed  with 
bees,  for  the  sexton's  hives  were  busy.  All  was  life  and  ser- 
vice, warmth  and  lustihood,  and  I,  myself,  a  hale  young 
fellow,  no  longer  to  be  misjudged  and  kept  in  the  shade, 
but  (  as  I  hoped  )  with  a  place  kept  for  me  and  my  work 
before  me. 

From  the  brick-floor  of  the  nave  I  could  see,  despite  the 
intervening  rood-screen,  that  Blakenham  had  not  been  un- 
mindful of  his  duty.  The  chancel  is  full  of  Fanshawe  monu- 
ments, and  its  floor  paved  with  our  brasses;  but  I  knew  of  a 
blank  space  on  the  south  wall,  and  this  was  sheeted.  Trestles 
and  ladders  and  mason's  litter  lay  about;  the  work  was  in  hand; 
the  man  had  left  for  the  day.  I  touched  the  sheet,  reverently, 
I  believe,  but  without  a  pang;  it  was  ill  secured  and  slipt  to 
my  feet,  revealing  the  unfinished  monument,  white  from  the 
chisel.  My  younger  relations  know  it  well,  yellower  now  with 
the  dust  of  years,  my  lord  and  father's  bust  in  wig  and  coronet, 
crowned  with  bays  by  the  Genius  of  Civil  Liberty,  while  Fame 
sounds  her  trumpet,  and  Religion  points  the  beholder  to  the 
skies.  At  the  foot  of  this  classical  composition,  weeping  cher- 
ubs support  a  pair  of  escutcheons,  then  uncharged.  The  en- 
tablature beneath  bears  a  long  inscription  in  Latin  on  which 
the  engraver  was  still  at  work. 

Beginning  at  the  titles  and  honours,  I  worked  downward  line 
by  line  with  some  success  to  the  last  of  his  afternoon's  cutting  — 
ft  uxor  ejus.  The  three  words  brought  my  heart  to  a  stand 
with  so  horrid  a  shock  that  I  can  still,  and  shall  ever,  remember 
it  with  a  sense  of  sickness.  I  stared,  but  the  atrocious  lettering 
out-faced  me;  there  it  stood,  fresh  cut  as  the  mason's  chisel 
had  left  it  an  hour  earlier.  Was  there  no  one  —  nothing  to  tell 
me  then  and  instantly  what  it  meant  —  who  had  dared  —  by 
whose  preposterous  blunder  —  this  thing  had  been  done  ? 

A  step  sounded  in  the  porch;  I  turned  to  see  the  vicar  ap- 

[238] 


CHAPTER  TFTENTT-NINE 


preaching.  He  came  with  outstretched  hands  and  a  face  of 
honest,  worldly  commiseration.  We  had  always  understood 
one  another. 

"Eh,  my  dear  lad!"  cried  he,  more  loudly  than  a  layman 
would  have  spoken  in  a  church, "  'tis  a  monstrous  sad  business, 
this.  Yes,  I  buried  'em  —  both.  You've  heard  the  particulars  ?" 

"Not  a  syllable,  sir.  But 'tis  impossible.  I  mean,  it  cannot  be!" 

He  looked  me  over  with  head  aslant,  fingering  a  nervous  lip. 
No  man  hated  a  scene  more  cordially  than  did  the  Rev.  Jack 
Bellasis. 

"Why  yes,  George;  life's  a  bubble,  ye  know.  We  must  all 
pay  the  debt  of  nature  —  " 

"My  lord?  —  yes,  I  know;  I  heard  of  it  in  Yorkshire:  it 
brought  me  home  —  " 

"Gout  in  the  head,  George,  there's  nothing  known  for  it; 
we  must  all  —  " 

" But  you'll  not  tell  me  that  my  —  mother  —  "I  stopt, 
my  eyes  pressed  the  question  my  tongue  refused  to  frame. 

He  nodded  slowly  and  jerked  his  thumb  towards  the  hatch- 
ments in  the  dusk  of  the  roof  over  our  heads.  There  was  my 
father's  coat,  and  fixed  beside  it  the  square,  uncrested  escut- 
cheon of  a  female  heiress  with  the  Chorley  bearings,  a  line 
now  extinct  in  the  person  of  its  last  representative. 

"But  —  but  I've  not  seen  her  yet;  I've  come  home  on  pur- 
pose —  " 

"  Ye're  too  late,  my  lad  —  too  late  —  inscrutable  decree  of 
Providence;  common  lot  of  man,  ye  know.  We  must  all  —  " 

I  stamped,  "Then  all  I  can  say  is  I  can't  and  won't  stand  it!" 

He  shrugged  a  shoulder.  "Permit  me  to  enquire  what  ye 
propose  to  do  ? " 

"Mr.  Bellasis!  is  this  all  you  can  say?  Is  —  is  your  office 
good  for  no  more  than  this  ?  Do  something  man ! "  I  shook 
my  whip  at  the  epitaph. 

[239] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

*'Et  uxor  ejus  ?"  He  nodded  gloomily. 

"But  —  oh!  this  is  all  a  mistake,  come,  now,  I  say.  That 
damned  thing  can't  be  allowed  to  — "  I  stopt  again;  the 
horrid  pain  of  it,  the  wrench,  the  sudden  insupportable  agony 
unmanned  me.  One  minute  earlier  the  sense  of  her  nearness  had 
been  so  vivid,  so  pleasant,  and  the  tones  of  her  voice  and  the 
lines  and  movement  of  her  smile.  All  the  warmth  and  mother- 
hood for  which  I  had  hungered  the  more  keenly  the  nearer  I 
rode;  all  the  delights  and  endearments  of  reconciliation, 
renewals  of  affection,  all  —  all  and  for  ever  gone! 

My  stubborn,  bitter  pride  was  punished  indeed.  The  sense 
of  my  outrageous  folly  and  wickedness  poured  upon  me  molten 
and  fierce,  and  the  quarrel  that  would  never  be  made  up,  the 
injury  that  could  never  be  atoned,  the  pardon  which  could  never 
be  asked  —  nor  granted. 

He  took  me  by  the  arm  and  led  me  forth,  and  to  the  vicarage, 
still  raving.  The  tears  had  yet  to  come. 

My  father,  as  he  intimated,  had  been  struck  suddenly  by 
his  family  malady,  surviving  by  a  week  my  mother,  who,  travel- 
ling to  town  to  nurse  him,  perished  in  the  overturning  of  her 
coach  near  Colchester. 

Long  we  sate  and  late,  and  this,  or  my  riding,  or  the  man's 
excellent  old  wine,  secured  me  a  night's  rest.  He  had  sent  for 
my  saddle-bags  and  must  needs  put  me  up. 

I  awoke  early  with  a  weight  of  undefined  sorrow  lying 
heavily  upon  my  mind,  and  for  a  while  lay  still  and  dared  not 
ask  myself  why  I  felt  so  low.  But  the  bitter  truth  would  take 
no  denial;  I  must  arouse  and  face  it,  so  drest  and  went  forth 
in  the  cool  white  light  of  early  morn  for  a  plunge  in  the  pool 
below  the  lock,  and  later  to  breakfast  with  such  face  as  I 
could  manage. 

Says  the  parson  to  me  as  we  sate  at  the  board  with  our 
breakfast  beer  before  us,  and  the  scents  of  mown  grass  blown 

[240] 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-NINE 


in  about  the  room.  "You  must  to  town  at  once;  Blakenham 
will  expect  it  of  you;  he  is  the  head  of  your  house  now,  and 
decency  enjoins  your  paying  your  respects  to  him  as  soon  as 
may  be. " 

I  glanced  up  from  my  ham  and  bread  with  a  questioning  eye. 

"The  Marquise  will  be  still  at  the  dower-house  ?" 

"Why,  yes,  and  with  every  appearance  of  remaining  —  as 
things  stand. " 

"Is  she  so  hopelessly  single  then?  Is  she  still  indifferent 
to  my  brother  ?  I'll  swear  he  is  still  faithful  to  her;  'tis  a  stub- 
born piece,  is  Bramford!" 

The  vicar  nodded  assent.  "Never  hotter  than  since  he  be- 
came his  own  master,  and  my  lady  never  colder.  Says  she, 
'Mounzeer'  (you  may  know  their  lingo,  I  can't  lay  my 
tongue  to't  ),  'Mounzeer,'  says  she,  'if  I  were  free  you  are  not  to 
my  goo;  if  ever  I  am  led  to  the  altar  it  shall  be  by  neither  a 
jacket  nor  a  corney  (  that's  a  dice-box,  ye  know  ). " 

"That  was  a  facer  for  Bramford;  I'll  be  sworn  he  took  it 
ill,"  said  I  maliciously. 

"He  took  it  most  particularly  well,  George,  and  kissed  her 
hand,  and  bowed  himself  to  the  door  as  a  gentleman  should.  He 
will  have  her  yet,  and  I  shall  live  to  publish  the  banns;  my 
word  on't,  I  know  a  woman!"  He  looked  me  up  and  down  with 
conviction,  and  resumed :  "O,  there  are  worse  men  than  Bramf — 
Blakenham,  I  would  say.  He  has  borne  his  disappoint- 
ment well;  fairly  well.  There's  no  gainsaying  he  was  made  a 
fool  of,  and  feels  it.  No,  I'll  say  no  word  in  his  dispraise,  save  as 
to  his  stud.  To  part  with  Roysterer  was  a  sin,  George!  He  never 
did  know  a  running-horse,  and. never  will;  but  he  sets  more 
store  by  the  word  of  a  macaroni,  some  damned  fool  (  may 
God  forgive  me! )  of  a  Frenchified  town  beau  called  Vyze 
than  by  the  advice  of  his  oldest  friend.  And  what's  the  upshot  ? 
Well,  ye'll  hear  soon  enough. "  He  paused,  biting  upon  the 

[241] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

bitter  cud  of  some  disappointment,  and  began  again: 
"What  he  will  make  of  yesterday's  piece  of  work,  the  Lord  He 
knows!" 

"Eh  ?  what,  vicar  ?  I  don't  take  ye." 

He  smiled  a  worldly,  old  man's  smile. 

"Ye  were  taken  for  dead,  and  not  unreasonably,  and  your 
return  from  the  shades  will  make  all  the  difference  to  Bramf  — 
Blakenham  and  some  others,  as  I  hear!  But,  there!  not  another 
word  shall  ye  get  from  me!  'Tis  no  affair  of  mine.  Get  you  to  my 
lady's  lawyers  —  yours  now. " 

"Don't  know  'em." 

"You've  seen  their  advertisement?" 

"Not  a  line.  I  didn't  know  anyone  wanted  me.  Nobody  wrote. 
Who—  ?When?" 

He  slapt  his  knee.  "God  Almighty,  what  a  fool!  Did  ye 
never  see  the  News?" 

"Never;  you  know  I  read  nothing,  and  have  lived  much  re- 
tired." 

He  had  left  his  seat,  and  was  searching  the  dusty  heaps 
of  printed  stuff,  folios,  broadsides,  cartridge-paper  and  fly- 
books  which  littered  his  bachelor  room.  "See  here,  the  value 
they  set  upon  ye:  Two  Hundred  Guineas  Reward  !  Follows  your 
description,  out  of  date  now,  for  begad,  George,  ye're  twice  the 
fellow  ye  were  when  ye  left  us.  Turn  the  women's  heads  if 
ye  will  (  and  as  ye  will,  poor  souls!  )  but  keep  your  own,  dear 
lad,  and  settle  early  or  'tis  all  up  with  Fanshawe!  Ah,  here's 
the  address  at  foot:  Lawrie,  Biddulph  and  Linklater,  90 
Southampton  Row.  Biddulph  is  your  man.  I've  met  him  at  the 
Hall  on  her  ladyship's  business;  a  civil  little  fellow  and  shrewd; 
good  manners,  too,  for  the  lower  branch.  Send  for  him  to  your 
lodging  in  town." 

I  laughed.  "Would  he  come?  Could  I  make  it  worth  his 
while  if  he  did  ?  I'm  a  beggar,  vicar,  or  to  speak  by  the  book, 

[242] 


CHAPTER 


a  common  fellow  who  has  earned  his  bread  for  a  year  past. 
Look  at  my  hands." 

He  looked  the  other  way  with  an  expression  of  restrained 
disgust,  as  though  my  remark  had  been  in  some  way  offensive 
to  good  taste. 

"Ye  shall  tell  me  your  story  another  day,  dear  lad;  but 
that's  at  an  end.  Get  along  to  Biddulph  and  claim  your  in- 
heritance; 'tis  worth  a  journey  (  and  a  Jew's  eye  ),  and  as 
ye'll  need  travelling  money  —  "  he  rose  and  unlocked  a  bureau. 


[243] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A 

PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

CHAPTER  THIRTY 
I    COME    INTO    MY    INHERITANCE 


MY  Lord  Blakenham  was  at  home  ?  Yes.  The  younger 
lackey  looked  to  the  elder  for  guidance,  both  re- 
garded me  with  veiled  insolence.  Something  was 
wrong.  I  repeated  my  name,  they  shook  incredulous  heads; 
certainly  they  had  heard  of  Mr.  Fanshawe,  the  late  Honourable 
George:  I  did  not  reckon  to  be  he,  did  I  ?  Both  men  were 
strangers  to  me. 

"See  here,  my  men,"  said  I,  very  civilly,  "I  have  no  cards, 
for  I  am  but  now  home  from  travelling;  be  good  enough  to  take 
my  name  to  my  lord,  and  say  that  his  brother  waits. " 

They  considered  my  demand  behind  the  door;  the  younger 
sauntered  off  yawning,  and  was  presently  back  with  one  whom 
I  recognised  as  Bramford's  valet  on  his  last  visit  to  Suffolk. 
The  fellow  looked  hard  at  me,  hesitated,  smirked,  and  bowed.  I 
was  admitted  with  apologies  and  shown  to  the  blue  parlour; 
what  would  I  be  pleased  to  take  ?  His  lordship  was  sleeping; 
had  not  rung  yet,  anyway.  It  was  high  noon. 

"My  lord's  bell,  Mr.  Sims,"  said  the  elder  lackey  at  the 
door;  the  valet  vanished.  I  waited  twenty  minutes  ere  he  re- 
turned with  word  that  my  lord  would  receive  me,  begged  me  to 
excuse  his  neglige.  I  followed  the  man  upstairs. 

My  brother  and  myself  might  be  said  to  have  been  upon  the 

[244] 


CHAPTER  THIRTY 


usual  brotherly  terms.  As  a  boy  he  had  beaten  me  until  I  was 
big  enough  to  beat  him.  When  older,  we  had  commonly  disa- 
greed when  we  met,  our  father  siding  with  him,  our  mother 
with  me;  being  neither  of  us  vindictive  in  temper,  we  had  kept 
within  bounds  and  were  now  as  friendly  as  ever. 

"Draw  up  that  demned  blind,  Sims!"  drawled  the  voice 
I  knew.  "Ha,  Doodles!"  said  he,  addressing  me  by  my 
Eton  nickname,  and  stopt  for  a  fit  of  coughing,  "So  you've 
turned  up  at  last!  I  suppose  I  ought  to  say  Fm  monstrous 
glad  to  see  ye,  and  begad,  'tis  true,  but"  —  he  grinned 
sardonically,  "there's  many  will  sigh,  Doodles,  and  that's  a 
fact,  too." 

He  was  still  in  bed,  propt  high  by  pillows  to  ease  his  asthma, 
under  the  enormous  coronetted  tent-tester,  fit  for  a  king,  of  the 
best  guest  chamber  in  Old  Fanshawe  House,  Clarges  Street 
(  sold  and  pulled  down  long  since  ).  Never  had  I  imagined 
such  luxury;  his  bed-gown  and  night-cap  were  of  pale  pink 
flowered  satin,  which  wronged  a  complexion  already  accustom- 
ed to  injuries.  He  looked  thin  and  small,  and  was  plainly  in  low 
health :  there  were  lines  about  his  mouth  that  no  sound  man  of 
his  age  has  a  right  to,  and  pale  blue  marks  beneath  weak  and 
watery  eyes. 

"Sit,  man,  anywhere!"  Every  chair  was  heaped  with  cloth- 
ing; I  turned  a  masquerade  costume  of  parti-coloured  silks 
from  the  nearest  and  sat. 

"Fore  gad,  Doodles,  ye  look  well!  —  strangely  well!  A  leg 
like  a  chairman,  a  chest  like  a  porter,  the  bloom  and  colours 
of  a  huntsman!  (  But,  ecod,  your  fortune  will  soon  cure  that!  ) 
Where  the  devil  hast  been  all  this  time  ?" 

I  told  him  shortly,  withholding  names,  but  he  did  not 
listen,  the  lids  slid  down  over  tired  eyes,  he  nodded  and  roused 
alternately,  excusing  himself  on  the  score  of  not  having  drank 
his  morning  draught. 

[245] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

"Pull  that  bell,  Doodles!"  he  yawned,  as  I  rose  to  go, 
"ye'll  breakfast  with  me."  I  laughed,  "  'Tis  past  my  dinner- 
hour,  but  what  signifies  the  name  ?  Yes!"  He  stared  and  bade 
Sims  bid  them  lay  for  two.  "I'll  not  detain  ye  at  my  toilet, 
Doodles;  the  Gentleman's  Magazine  and  some  papers  should 
lie  in  the  morning  room  if  my  cursed  people  ha'nt  taken  'em  to 
the  servants'  hall. " 

A  paragraph  in  the  Times  caught  my  eye, "  Robberies  on 
the  No  th  Road."  "  The  audacious  footpad,  Samuel  Smith 
(whose  depredations  last  autumn  kept  the  eastern  Midlands  on 
the  alert)  has  transf  rred  himself  to  the  parts  between  Doncaster 
and  York.  The  North  Mail  was  stopt  near  Dring  Houses  on 
We'nsday  last  after  sunset,  a  horse  being  cast  and  the  coach 
overset,  the  guard  hurt,  the  bags  opened,  and  every  passenger 
robbed.  The  device  used,  viz.,  a  rope  fix'd  across  the  road, 
is  the  same  as  that  employ'd  in  the  robbery  of  Oct.  2d  last 
year  when  the  Bath  Tantivy  was  stopt,  its  driver's  neck  broke, 
and  a  Colonel  Gunn  of  the  Swedish  service  and  a  Mr.  Doggett 
robbed  on  Maidenhead  Thicket.  On  both  occasions  the  chief 
perpetrator  was  disguised  as  a  Quaker.  We  understand  that 
H.M.  Govt.  contemplates  increasing  the  reward  ( already 
standing  at  £100  )  to  £200.  , 

"No  clue  has  yet  been  discovered  to  the  robberies  of  horses, 
which  alarm'd  the  gentry  and  farmers  of  Holderness  and 
the  East  Riding  last  year,  but  it  is  supposed  that  Samuel 
Smith  was  concern'd  in  these  also.  The  man  is  described  as 
of  meagre  figure  and  small  stature,  dark  hair,  pale  complexion 
and  prominent  features.  He  is  said  to  be  of  such  plausible 
and  insinuating  address  as  to  easily  ingratiate  himself  in  any 
company." 

A  list  of  stolen  property  followed.  Here  was  food  for  thought; 
the  name  of  the  highwayman  hung  loose  in  my  memory, 
I  had  heard  it  somewhere,  but,  no  matter,  it  was  assuredly  an 

[246] 


CHAPTER  THIRTr 


alias.  That  my  old  friend  of  the  Black  Swan  had  suffered  at 
the  hands  of  this  daring  malefactor  I  regretted,  and  pictured 
to  myself  how  quietly  he  would  have  taken  his  reverse,  and  with 
what  pertinacious  sagacity  would  pursue  the  thief. 

"Fore  George,  Doodles!  I'd  give  a  thousand  guineas  — 
if  I  had  'em  —  for  your  appetite!"  He  had  picked  at  a  devilled 
bone  and  was  playing  with  a  kidney.  "Not  that  ye  want  the 
guineas,  lucky  dog!"  I  glanced  up  with  my  mouth  full,  wonder- 
ing, "There!  run  and  ask  old  Biddulph  all  about  it!  I  protest 
I  am  damnably  rejoiced  to  have  ye  again,  but  'twill  be  the 
most  cursed  unlucky  thing  for  some  of  my  friends. " 

He  spoke  of  Bramford,  had  I  seen  the  tomb  ?  heard  of  its 
progress,  grumbled  at  the  cost.  "I  swear,  brother,  this  coming 
into  an  estate  is  the  most  notorious  chouse  in  the  world!  Whilst 
one  was  heir-expectant  the  Jews  would  wait.  Now,  they  won't.  '* 

Having,  as  I  conceived,  no  concern  with  my  brother's  em- 
barrassments, nor  understanding  of  his  allusions  to  my  opu- 
lence (which  I  accepted  as  pleasantries),  I  presently  made  my 
adieux,  promising  to  dine  with  him  on  the  next  day. 

My  appearance  at  No.  90,  Southampton  Row,  created  some- 
thing of  a  sensation.  Conceiving  myself  and  my  affairs  as  of 
small  importance  I  had  not  writ  to  announce  my  coming,  and 
the  mention  of  my  name  to  a  clerk  in  the  outer  office  made  the 
man  to  jump  as  though  I  had  presented  a  pistol. 

An  elderly  person  in  black,  with  a  brown  wig,  came  tripping 
from  an  inner  room,  whispering  loudly,  "Who  ?  what  ?  where  ? " 
peering  blindly  over  his  spectacles. 

"My  dear,  sir!  Come  in,  come  inside!"  cried  he,  when  he 
found  me,  rubbing  his  small,  plump  hands  one  upon  the  other 
and  bowing  over  them  repeatedly  like  a  China  mandarin.  There 
were  seven  men  engrossing  in  the  outer  room;  all  rose  and  re- 
mained standing  until  I  had  passed. 

[247J 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITT 

As  the  baize  door  closed  upon  us,  Mr.  Biddulph  (for  this 
was  he)  drew  for  me  the  largest  and  softest  chair  into  the 
best  light,  and  invited  me  to  sit.  Observing  that  he  stood,  I 
begged  that  no  ceremony  should  be  used,  for  I  took  these  to  be 
city  manners,  and  they  irked  me.  Addressing  him  by  name,  for 
I  now  remembered  his  face  at  Bramford,  I  offered  him  my  hand, 
which  he  took  with  every  mark  of  profound  respect.  For  my- 
self, having  never  before  spoken  to  one  of  his  profession,  it 
is  possible  that  I  displayed  some  nervousness. 

I  again  requested  him  to  sit;  he  thanked  me  for  the  per- 
mission, and  we  fell  into  conversation,  he  watching  me  closely 
at  the  first,  but  presently,  having  satisfied  himself  that  I  was 
indeed  his  client,  unfolded  to  me  my  position. 

This  was  one  of  the  great  surprises  of  my  life.  Brought 
up  by  my  parents  in  complete  ignorance  of  business,  and  having 
lived  entirely  in  the  country,  I  had  spent  little  and  had  no 
costly  tastes,  contented  with  the  horse  and  gun  they  allowed  me. 
My  tailor's  bill  had  been  paid  by  someone,  probably  by  my 
mother,  but  dress  had  no  charms  for  me  then  or  since.  As  the 
booby  of  the  family  I  had  asked  nothing  and  had  been  told 
nothing,  nor  can  I  be  said  to  have  nourished  expectations,  for 
a  country  boy  thinks  not  of  such  matters,  and  to  the  day  of  my 
leaving  home,  I  was  but  an  overgrown  hobbledehoy,  eating  what 
was  put  upon  the  table,  little  considered  perhaps,  but  causing 
trouble  to  none. 

Nothing  that  had  happened  since  had  raised  my  conceit  of 
myself,  nor  had  Blakenham's  confessions  of  debt  much  moved 
me.  He  had  always  been  in  debt  at  Eton,  and  had  always 
spent  my  allowance;  he  had  been  in  debt  ever  since,  and  his 
appearances  at  the  Hall  were  connected  in  my  memory  with 
uproars  in  my  father's  study,  and  acrimonious  conversations 
between  my  parents. 

"Never!  my  lord!"  I  had  once  heard  my  mother  exclaim,  in 

[248] 


CHAPTER  THIRTY 


reply  to  some  proposal  of  my  father's  for  her  concurrence  in 
advancing  Bramford,  "I've  told  ye  once,  and  tell  ye  again, 
you  have  made  a  rod  for  your  own  back,  but  it  shall  not  fall 
on  mine!" 

In  a  general  manner  I  had  supposed  that  such  were  the  ways 
of  eldest  sons,  and  had  vaguely  speculated  upon  how  much,  or  if 
any,  would  be  left  for  me. 

I  was  now  to  learn  —  what  was  news  to  me  indeed.  My 
mother's  property,  the  Chorley  estates,  having  been  settled 
upon  her  and  (  subject  to  a  life-interest  of  my  father's,  now 
lapsed  )  upon  the  younger  issue  of  her  marriage,  devolved  to 
me.  The  situation  and  extent  of  these  properties  I  very  im- 
perfectly apprehended;  her  ladyship  had  never  visited  nor  re- 
sided upon]  them;  they  had  existed  for  me  as  names  in  which 
I  confest  no  concern. 

Now  all  was  changed.  Map  after  map  was  unrolled  before 
me,  pasture-lands,  arables,  parks,  a  chase,  woods,  mines,  ham- 
lets, boroughs.  This  red  line  meandering  across  was  the 
Bridgewater  Canal,  a  fact  of  as  little  significance  to  my  dull 
eyes  as  the  legend  ""here  is  coale"  appearing  in  so  many  places. 

The  attorney  watched  me  poring  over  terriers  and  plans  of 
estate,  which  his  confidential  clerk  laid  before  me,  until  the 
table  overflowed  and  the  turkey  carpet  was  hidden  beneath 
drifts  of  parchment. 

When  my  curiosity  failed  me,  and  I  lifted  a  dazed  and 
puzzled  head,  incapable  of  imbibing  more  at  the  eye,  he  motion- 
ed to  the  man  to  leave  us,  and  reseating  himself,  crossed  his  legs 
demurely,  caught  my  eye,  and  with  a  little  preliminary  cough, 
took  up  his  tale;  and  again  the  deference  in  his  manner  brought 
home  to  me  that  in  some  way,  which  I  had  yet  to  realise,  I 
had  become  a  personage. 

"Is  it  possible,  sir  —  pardon  the  question  —  but  am  I  cor- 
rect in  assuming  that  your  inheritance  is  a  surprise  to  you  ?" 

[249] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITT 

Two  hundred  a  year  would  have  contented  me,  and  I  said  so. 

He  removed  and  polished  his  glasses,  keeping  his  eyes 
closed  meanwhile  to  such  an  incredible  insensibility.  He  was 
wound  up,  and  willing  to  be  my  instructor  in  this  new  and 
tremendous  business  of  territorial  magnate,  but  my  obtuseness 
checked  him,  he  knew  not  where  to  begin. 

He  came  at  length  with  a  rush.  "Sir,  ye  are  the  patron  of 
thirty-one  livings,  and  own  two-and-a-half  parliamentary  bor- 
oughs. " 

"God  forbid!"  said  I,  "tell  me  no  more  to-day,  at  least.  Tis 
plain  I  shall  not  starve.  But  if  ye  know,  and  between  ourselves, 
tell  me  of  Bramford,  my  brother,  I  mean,  for  indeed  he  seems 
as  low  as  ever  I  saw  man. " 

"My  dear  sir,  we  are  not  Lord  Blakenham's  agents,"  he 
began  circumspectly. 

"No?  but  you  are  mine,  and  for  my  guidance,  and  the  re- 
lief of  my  mind,  Mr.  Biddulph." 

"Certainly,  my  dear  sir.  "  He  glanced  from  habit  at  the 
door.  "You  knew  of  the  end  ofFansbawe  v.  Fansbawe?" 

I  knew  nothing,  and  now  learned  of  the  conclusion  of  that 
famous  suit  and  the  decision  in  favour  of  the  younger  branch, 
and  the  passing  of  the  Northamptonshire  estates  to  the  Mas- 
kelyne-Fanshawes. 

I  whistled.  "  'Twas  a  knock-down  blow  to  my  father,  that, 
I  fear!" 

"From  which  he  never  recovered,  sir.  The  gout  flew  to  his 
head  and  —  and  other  troubles  supervening  —  into  which  it  is 
now  needless  to  enter  —  " 

"The  York  affair  ?"  I  faltered,  presaging  the  answer. 

"The  York  affair  and  other  matters —  " 

"My  disappearance?" 

"And  other  matters;  her  ladyship's  lamented  death  gave  the 
final  blow.  A  noble,  a  patriotic  life,  sir;  the  late  Earl  of  Blaken- 


CHAPTER  THIRTY 


ham  and  Bramford  was  a  pattern  to  his  order,  a  pillar  of  the 
State,  and  a  faithful  servant  of  his  King :  a  service  very  inade- 
quately recognized,  in  my  opinion,  sir,  if  I  may  venture  to 
express  it." 

"But  about  my  brother's  affairs,  Mr.  Biddulph,"  for  he 
was  slow  in  coming  to  the  point. 

He  bowed. 

"In  good  time  sir,  my  remarks  (  as  you  will  presently  see  ) 
are  necessary  preliminaries.  His  parents'  deaths  have  without 
doubt  injuriously  affected  the  present  earl.  The  paternal  estate 
descends  to  him  diminished  in  extent,  and  hampered  with  heavy 
costs,  whilst  her  ladyship's  income  (  hitherto  placed  practically 
at  the  disposal  of  your  father  the  late  earl  )  is  alienated  from 
the  title  and  falls  to  you. " 

"He  hinted  at  embarrassments,"  said  I. 

"I  am  not  surprised.  Indeed  I  will  say  more  for  your  private 
information,  since  you  have  desired  it,  that  my  lord's  embar- 
rassments are  unfortunately  likely  to  become  a  public  scandal. 
'Tis  a  life"  —  he  watched  my  face  to  see  what  I  could  bear 
— "  painfully  ill-regulated;  there  is  no  holding  him.  The 
unfortunate  young  nobleman  is  in  the  worst  hands  in  town, 
and,  if  you  will  have  it,  a  certain  Mr.  Horatio  Vyze  —  Beau 
Vyze,  the  gentleman  is  commonly  called,  —  a  professional  game- 
ster, duellist,  and  leader  of  the  mode,  is  his  master." 

"His  chief  creditor,  may  I  take  it  ?" 

"You  may,  sir.  'Tis  freely  asserted  that  this  person  holds 
his  lordship's  engagements  for  a  vast  amount,  and  bides  his 
time  to  enforce  payment.  They  were  partners  in  running- 
horses  at  Newmarket,  but  I  hear  the  stable  is  dispersed.  'Tis 
play  now,  and  we  know  how  that  must  end.  And  that  brings 
me  to  a  matter  affecting  yourself,  sir;  may  I  assume  that  ye 
have  not  yet  made  a  will  ? " 

I  had  never  thought  of  such  a  thing. 

[251] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

"Naturally!  But,  life  is  uncertain;  a  fact  of  which  we  have 
just  had  melancholy  evidence.  Your  death,  intestate,  would 
place  the  whole  of  your  property  nominally  at  your  brother's 
disposal. " 

"He  would  be  welcome  to  it." 

Mr.  Biddulph  paused  upon  his  reply,  sorting  his  words.  The 
shrewd  father liness  of  his  manner,  evident  sincerity  and  mastery 
of  the  situation,  increasingly  prejudiced  me  in  his  favour. 

"Ye  will  pardon  me,  I  trust,  my  dear  sir,  if  I  point  out 
that  such  a  contingency  would  benefit  your  brother  very  little, 
or  not  at  all,  but  would  enrich  the  cabal  of  worthless  persons 
who  have  speculated  upon  it. " 

"Upon   my  death?" 

"Upon  your  death,  sir,  intestate." 

"D'ye  mean  to  tell  me,  Mr.  Biddulph,  that  the  man  is  so 
deeply  dipped  that  it  would  need  this  enormous  property  to 
pull  him  through  ? "  I  swept  an  eye  over  the  wilderness  of 
parchments  and  awaited  his  answer. 

"That  is  the  result  of  our  enquiries  —  instituted,  I  need 
hardly  say,  in  your  interests.  Already  the  importunity  of  his 
creditors  is  itching  for  your  inheritance.  At  their  instance 
(  I  must  suppose  )  his  attorneys  applied  yesterday  for  letters  of 
administration  to  this  estate  —  yours. " 

"They  supposed  me  dead  ?" 

He  nodded. 

"If  'twould  help  him  —  "I  began  doubtfully,  and  stopt  — 
no  alternative  presenting  itself  at  the  moment. 

" —  You  would  leave  him,  as  he  is  already,  your  heir-at-law, 
but,  as  'twill  not  help  him,  you  will  make  other  dispositions  ?" 

"Well  —  yes,"  I  replied,  accepting  his  suggestion,  for  an 
idea  was  taking  shape  in  my  head. 

"Then,  sir,  with  your  permission  we  will  take  time  by  the 
forelock  and  —  your  instructions  for  your  will. " 

[252] 


CHAPTER  THIRTT 


He  touched  a  hand-bell,  the  same  confidential  clerk  re- 
appeared, a  fat-faced,  youngish  man,  of  uncertain  age,  who 
moved  with  as  little  noise  as  a  cat,  anticipating  every  unspoken 
want  of  his  master's  in  a  manner  the  most  extraordinary.  I 
had  seen  such  a  face  before,  the  quick  little  blue  eyes,  the  prim 
mouth,  and  short  snub  nose  beneath  the  high  smooth  forehead 
from  which  the  sandy  hair  ( for  he  wore  his  own  )  was  brushed 
back  and  tied  en  queue  with  a  bow  of  black  riband. 

"Take  a  note,  Mr.  Cotter,  if  you  please." 

"Since  I  must  leave  all  this  to  someone,"  quoth  I,  thinking 
aloud,  "and  to  leave  it  to  my  only  relation  will  do  him  no 
service  —  " 

"Nine-tenths  of  it  he  would  never  touch,  and  the  rest  he 
would  squander  in  a  twelvemonth,"  murmured  Mr.  Biddulph. 

"Poor  old  Bramford!  Well,  then,  I  leave  the  whole  of  it 
(  'tis  for  you  to  put  this  into  shape )  to  my  friend  Mr. 
Thomas  Ellwood,  Miller,  of  Milton-on-Derwent,  in  Yorkshire, 
or,  failing  him,  to  his  son  Abel. " 

Mr.  Cotter's  quill  flew  —  his  master  looked  up  with  sur- 
prise, plainly  taken  aback  at  my  so  promptly  providing  myself 
with  an  heir. 

"No  legacies  ?"  he  asked. 

"Why,  yes,  now  I  think  on't;"  and  remembering  the  few  for 
whom  I  had  any  regard,  I  named  Mr.  Bellasis,  Mr.  Simeon 
Baxter,  John  Hymus,  Mistress  Medcalf,  James,  my  mother's 
old  coachman  (  a  broken  man  since  the  accident  ),  and  Isaac 
Penington,  Quaker,  of  Hitchin,  adding,  by  a  fortunate  after- 
thought, "  and  yourself,  Mr.  Biddulph,  for  a  thousand  pounds 
apiece. " 

He  rose  and  bowed,  with  evident  gratification. 

"I  thank  you,  sir.  We  will  have  this  engrossed  by  the  day 
after  to-morrow,  and  will  wait  upon  you  —  did  ye  mention 
your  hotel  ? " 

[253] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITT 

"The  Green  Dragon  in  Bishopsgate  Within." 

He  shook  his  head.  "Not  the  house  for  a  person  of  quality. 
Fennell's,  in  Bedford  Square,  would  be  more  in  keeping  —  a 
quiet  house,  sound  wines,  good  beds.  I  will  do  myself  the 
honour  of  recommending  you  to  the  landlord  ( they  admit  only 
on  an  introduction  at  Fennell's).  Mr.  Cotter  will  fetch 
your  baggage." 

The  clerk,  who  seemed  a  very  nimble  and  indispensable  per- 
son, bobbed  and  silently  withdrew. 

"Invaluable  servant  that,  Mr.  Fanshawe;  close  as  a  strong- 
box, trusty  as  a  Bow  Street  runner, "  murmured  Mr.  Biddulph 
as  the  door  closed,  in  the  slightly  self-conscious  manner  of  one 
who  is  aware  that  a  capable  man  reflects  credit  upon  the  master 
who  trained  him.  I  bowed  with  an  uneasy  sense  that  this  prodigy 
of  virtue  must  be  struggling  with  hourly  temptation,  for  I  had 
not  worked  afield  four  months  for  nothing,  and  the  fellow's 
eye  had  a  twinkle  of  its  own,  and  a  sly  devil  had  peeped  at  me 
from  out  that  sleek  bullet  head  of  his. 

It  seemed  that  much  remained  to  be  done  ere  my  fortune 
could  be  legally  mine.  There  opened  before  me  an  endless  vista 
of  duties  to  take  up  and  offices  to  assume,  of  which  I  remember 
two,  the  being  presented  at  Court  and  signing  for  my  arms  at 
the  Herald's  College  in  Godliman  Street. 

Having  placed  a  credit  at  my  disposal  and  given  me  advice 
as  to  a  tailor,  my  man  of  business  permitted  me  to  escape,  for 
my  head  was  in  a  whirl,  I  needed  seclusion  and  time  to  turn 
the  matter  over,  and  went  forth  from  his  office  steadying  my- 
self for  this  monstrous  change  in  my  circumstances  as  a  child 
goes  steadying  the  full  cup  it  carries. 

My  new  wealth  helped  me  little  at  this  my  first  need.  I  yearned 
for  a  dry  ditch-bottom,  for  an  empty  wheat-bin,  the  cool,  re- 
current plash  of  the  wheel-house,  for  any  lonely,  quiet,  country 
place  wherein  to  sit  and  think,  and  behold  —  High  Holborn! 

[254] 


CHAPTER  THIRTT 


Such  square  gardens  as  I  essayed  were  locked,  so  were  the 
churches.  Paul's  and  the  Abbey  occurred  to  me  later.  For 
some  hours  I  endured  the  streets,  their  moving  throngs,  their 
droves  of  pale,  sharpened  faces  (would  they  never  stop?). 
Strange,  London  had  not  thus  affected  me  when  a  boy. 

Late  in  the  afternoon,  my  business  done,  and  my  stomach  com- 
plaining of  neglect,  I  turned  into  a  chop-house,  I  know  not 
where,  found  an  empty  box,  and  called  timidly  for  a  steak  and  a 
tankard  of  porter.  The  place  was  ill-lighted,  and  I  had  no- 
ticed no  one  particularly  at  my  entering,  but,  looking  into  a 
mirror  of  bevelled  glass  upon  the  wall  beside  me,  I  observed 
the  reflection  of  Mr.  Cotter  in  chat  with  another,  and  remarked 
that  the  eyes  of  both  were  upon  me,  and,  indeed,  that  I  was 
plainly  the  subject  of  their  whispered  conversation.  This 
other  was  a  fine  man,  well-built  and  of  a  swarthy,  high  com- 
plexion and  noticeable  good  looks;  of  distinguished  carriage 
and  well,  but  plainly  dressed  in  a  style,  although  I  then  knew 
it  not,  somewhat  in  advance  of  the  fashion. 

The  man  struck  me  as  out  of  place  and  superior  to  his  com- 
pany, as  a  beau  might  be  who  had  adventured  city-wards  for  his 
business  and  used  for  the  nonce  his  broker's  chop-house  as  his 
rendezvous.  That  Cotter  showed  him  the  greatest  deference, 
not  to  say  servility,  was  evident. 

The  situation  piqued  me,  for  again  and  again  as  their  lips 
moved  noiselessly  their  eyes  met  mine  in  theglass.  I,  awaiting  what 
I  had  ordered,  sat  with  my  back  to  them  and  my  face  in  shadow, 
observing  them  at  my  leisure.  Now  Cotter  was  writing  with  the 
stem  of  a  pipe  upon  the  board,  the  beau  read  frowning,  clapt  his 
pocket,  found  a  shred  of  paper  upon  which  the  clerk  wrote  afresh. 

Next  moment  I  was  served,  and  they  had  risen,  but  pricked 
by  curiosity,  I  made  the  waiter  lay  for  me  at  the  table  thus  left 
vacant,  whereon  I  deciphered  the  words  in  gummy  spirit 
"Fennel?  s,  Bedford  Sq" 

[255] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

"To  whom  are  ye  giving  my  address,  master  quill-driver?" 
says  I  to  myself.  "Will  this  buck  be  for  selling  me  trinkets 
or  horses  ?  We  shall  see. " 

Later,  at  my  lodging,  I  broke  the  seal  of  a  packet  given  me  by 
Biddulph.  It  held  letters  from  my  parents,  a  round  dozen, 
chiefly  from  my  mother,  which  being  addressed  to  me  as 
"Captain,"  instead  of  being  delivered  to  my  lodging  in  York 
had  followed  my  regiment  to  Ireland,  had  been  taken  at  Castle- 
bar  and  opened  by  General  Humbert,  retaken  at  his  surrender, 
and  returned  to  the  addresses  of  the  writers  subsequently  to 
their  deaths. 

How  I  felt  as  I  read  these  last  evidences  of  my  parents' 
affection  —  voices  from  the  other  side  of  the  grave  —  I  will 
not  trust  my  pen  to  describe.  The  Mantuan  forbids  us  renovare 
dolor  em. 

It  was  night  now,  and  warm  as  a  midsummer  night  in  London 
is  like  to  be;  the  closeness  of  my  room  oppressed  me;  leaving 
the  house,  I  sauntered  around  the  square  feeling  sadly  friend- 
less, and  had  come  within  hail  of  Fennell's  again  when  a  man, 
apparently  in  liquor,  for  he  leant  upon  the  paling,  bowed  to 
me  with  some  incoherent  remark  to  which  I  saw  no  reason  to  re- 
spond. It  seemed  that  my  reserve  bred  offence,  for  in  a  twinkling 
he  had  drawn  and  run  upon  me.  So  sudden  was  his  thrust  that 
I  could  in  no  way  avoid  it  and  felt  the  coldness  of  the  steel 
between  my  shirt  and  my  ribs  as  the  swordsman  pitched  into 
my  arms.  Drunk  or  sober  he  was  plainly  not  to  be  trifled  with, 
so,  before  he  could  disengage,  I  had  kicked  his  heels  from  under 
him,  and  pinned  him  with  my  knee  face  down  upon  the  stones. 
Fennell's  night  porter  ran  for  the  watch,  and  I  saw  my  ruffian 
safely  bestowed  in  the  cells  at  Bow  Street. 

Thus  ended  an  eventful  day,  which  seemed  as  I  lay  awake 
in  the  darkness  at  least  a  week  in  length,  such  a  multitude  of 
novelties,  emotions  and  events  had  been  crowded  within  its 

[256] 


CHAPTER  THIRTY 


compass.  "Another  deliverance,"  thought  I;  "my  fourth  with- 
in eighteen  months.  It  seems  neither  bullet,  water,  machinery, 
no,  nor  steel,  can  kill  me,  until  my  work  is  done. " 

"What  shall  it  be?"  and  with  the  question  came  remem- 
brance that  for  three  nights  at  least  I  had  neglected  my  prayers, 
a  habit  I  had  begun  at  Milton  from  learning  by  the  innocent 
conversation  of  my  little  mistress  that  it  was  hers.  Down  upon 
my  knees  I  went,  and  in  remembering  those  to  whom  I  owed 
duty  —  less  by  two,  alas!  since  last  I  had  prayed  —  remem- 
bered my  poor  brother,  and  wondered  ere  I  slept  whether  in 
any  way  it  were  possible  to  disentangle  his  coil. 


[257] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A 


CHAPTER    THIRTY-ONE 
DINNER  FOR  TWO  AND  — DESSERT 


A  TENDING    at    Bow    Street    next   morning  with   my 
witness,  I  learned  that  the  bird  had  flown.    Through 
ignorance  I  had   charged   the   fellow  with   assault,  a 
bailable  misdemeanour.  The  case  was  called  and  the  court 
crier  bawled  the  name  of  Peter  Weekes  outside,  but  there  was 
no  appearance,  and  some  looked  foolish. 

There  was  one  who  looked  angry;  over  the  bench  loomed 
the  eagle  face  of  Sir  Barnes  Phipps,  and  when  he  had  satisfied 
himself  that  his  people  had  shown  no  remissness,  he  sent  for 
me  to  his  private  room.  He  was  mighty  displeased;  seldom 
have  I  seen  so  keen  and  severe  a  visage. 

"Bail!"  growled  he.  "  'Twas  attempted  murder!  .  .  . 
Mr.  Fanshawe,  I  enjoyed  the  acquaintance  of  my  lord  your 
father,  and  am  glad  to  make  yours.  My  people  have  been  look- 
ing for  you  for  over  a  year.  And  now,  sir,  you  may  speak  plainly 
to  me,  for  I  am  as  much  behind  the  scenes  as  any  man  in 
town.  Have  ye  an  enemy?" 

"Never  a  one  in  the  world,  sir,"  said  I. 

"I  am  not  so  sure, "  said  he.  "You  lodge  at  Fennell's,  but 
so  do  others,  though  few  of  your  inches,  I  think.  Yet  the  rogue 
may  have  mistaken  ye  for  another." 

"He  was  drunk,  sir,"  said  I. 

[258] 


CHAPTER  THIRTr-ONE 


"As  I  am,"  said  he  coldly.  *'Know  you  whose  hand  is 
this  ?  'twas  found  upon  him. "  He  showed  me  a  creased  scrap 
with  three  words  in  pencil,  Fennell's,  Bedford  Sq. 

We  were  alone;  the  magistrate's  interest  in  the  case  was 
upon  public  grounds.  I  thought  well  to  tell  him  of  the  meeting 
at  the  chop-house  and  all  I  knew  and  guessed.  I  heard  from 
Mr.  Biddulph  later  that  the  writing  was  Cotter's  as  I  had 
suspected. 

"Did  ye  recognize  this  Weekes  ?  His  name  is  Ganthony," 
(I  started  )  "late  of  the  unhappy  Fifth.  Nor  do  you  know 
this  Horatio  Vyze  —  Beau  Vyze  they  call  the  fellow  —  who 
bailed  him  out?"  He  gloomed  upon  me.  "There  are  some 
who  have  a  heavy  stake  upon  your  death,  Mr.  Fanshawe. 
I  wish  I  could  lock  ye  up  for  six  months,  for  I  doubt  you  will 
hardly  win  through  them  with  a  whole  skin  otherwise.  Hark 
to  me,  for  you  seem  a  sensible  young  countryman,  and  your 
head  is  still  unturned  by  your  fortune. "  I  blushed.  He  went 
on  slowly,  striking  his  open  palm  with  his  forefinger  to  en- 
force his  points. 

"Play  at  neither  dice  nor  cards,  nor  lay  upon  cock,  horse, 
nor  man  for  a  twelvemonth.  Quarrel  with  no  man,  and  if  ye 
do,  swallow  your  pride  and  tender  your  apology  at  once;  but 
hark  ye,  sir,  on  no  provocation  fight.  Keep  good  company  and 
early  hours.  Carry  a  heavy  cane  —  a  sword  won't  save  ye, 
nor  can  I,  but  we'll  do  our  best. " 

This  was  a  sobering  beginning  for  what  I  had  determined 
should  be  a  quiet  day.  The  magistrate's  advice  jumped  en- 
tirely with  my  own  inclinations,  who  had  not  the  least  desire 
to  put  my  new-found  fortune  to  the  hazard.  Indeed,  by  the 
time  I  had  seen  my  tailor  and  tried  on  in  its  tackings  the  coat 
I  was  to  wear  that  night,  and  bought  me  a  stout  Malacca 
at  a  tobacconist's,  I  was  feeling  as  lonely  and  as  unked  in  this 
great  crowd  as  ever  I  had  done  under  the  stars  in  Yorkshire. 

[259] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

It  was  the  2ist  June,  a  great  day  for  London.  The  King 
reviewed  the  volunteers,  twelve  thousand  of  them,  in  detach- 
ments, at  a  dozen  open  spaces  east  and  west.  I  saw  over  two 
thousand  odd  in  Hyde  Park,  and  was  near  stunned  by  the 
huzzahing. 

Returning  to  Fennell's  to  dress,  I  found  a  card  upon  my 
table.  The  Hon'ble  Bob  Dawnay  had  called,  leaving  his 
compliments  and  service  and  an  address  in  Clarges  Street.  How 
he  had  found  me  passed  my  comprehension;  we  had  fought 
at  Eton,  shared  sock,  broken  bounds,  and  suffered  for  it  in 
company,  gone  up  the  school  together,  been  the  most  insep- 
arable of  friends  until  our  leaving,  and  had  never  met  or  writ 
one  another  since!  My  heart  warmed  towards  the  laughing, 
mischievous,  red-headed  fellow;  would  he  be  changed  out  of 
knowledge,  would  be  be  a  town  beau,  or  buck,  or  macaroni, 
or  whatever  might  be  the  latest  name  for  the  thing  ?  I  could 
not  think  it. 

My  hackney  coach  set  me  down  late  at  my  brother's  door, 
the  lackeys  relieved  me  of  hat  and  cane  and  showed  me  to  his 
cabinet,  where  I  found  him  looking  better  than  I  could  have 
thought  possible,  but  presently  saw  it  was  but  paint.  His  eye- 
brows went  up  in  surprise  at  my  mourning;  he  had  cast  his. 

I  begged  his  pardon  for  keeping  him  waiting,  but  it  seemed 
it  mattered  not,  there  were  others  later.  I  had  hoped  for  a 
party  of  two  and  a  talk  of  old  times,  or  a  word,  if  way  opened, 
about  his  troubles.  He  saw  my  chagrin,  for  I  act  badly. 
"Couldn't  help  it,  Doodles,  'pon  my  life;  this  fellow  invited  him- 
self and  another  (  or  is  it  a  brace  ?  I  forget  —  I  forget  every- 
thing !)  Put  'em  off?  Can't.  'Tis  Vyze,  you  don't  know  him. 
My  racing  partner  once  when  I  sat  for  Alderley.  We  owned 
Barabbas  and  Rbodomontade  and  some  others,  mostly  crocks. 
Lord!  what  I've  dropt  on  'em!  Roysterer,  now:  I  pro- 
fess we  gave  —  /  gave  —  a  thousand  guineas  for  the  brute  as  a 

[260] 


CHAPTER  THIRTT-ONE 


two-year-old:  ye  see  Jack  Bellasis  fancied  him.  Well,  he  never 
so  much  as  went  to  the  post  —  everlastingly  amiss.  When  we 
broke  up  the  stable  Vyze  took  him  off  my  hands  with  his  far- 
rier's bill,  and  — would  ye  believe  it  ?  —  within  a  year  he  beat 
my  Rbodomontade  over  the  Beacon  course,  and  won  him  a 
mint  of  coin.  In  fact,  that  match  gave  the  beau  his  start. 
He  was  a  man  about  town  then,  but  he's  the  rage  now;  has  come 
on  to  a  miracle,  lays  down  the  law  to  Dukes,  a  devilish  sight 
bigger  man  than  I;  goes  everywhere;  member  of  White's  — 
they  pilled  me!  Be  civil  to  him,  Doodles,  for  my  sake!" 
he  smiled,  but  there  was  a  ring  of  anxiety  in  his  voice. 
"The  dinner  shall  please  ye,  my  boy,  anyway;  do  it  full  justice, 
for  'tis  one  of  the  last  you'll  eat  at  my  table. " 

The  door  swung  to  the  wall,  the  elder  lacquey  announced 
at  his  full  voice,  "Mr.  Vyze,  Capting  Shooter,  the  Revd.  Byng 
Anerley!" 

You  know  how  a  marchioness  enters  an  assembly  room  at  a 
county  ball,  the  magnificent,  self-contained,  eyes-front  com- 
pesure;  how  she  sweeps  the  whole  rout,  as  one  may  say,  into  the 
four  corners  and  takes  possession  of  the  floor.  More  elaborate- 
ly impressive,  more  offensively  dominant  was  the  entry  of  Beau 
Vyze.  He  sailed  rather  than  walked  into  the  room,  talking 
loudly  to  his  followers  and  swearing  vilely  at  every  tenth  word. 
He  was  a  great  fine  man  of  thirty-five,  nearly  six  feet  in  height, 
bulky  and  rubicund  with  much  good  living,  wearing  his  own 
hair  unpowered  in  the  fashion  he  had  set,  curled  in  three  masses 
at  the  sides  and  upon  the  top  of  his  head,  pomatum'd  glossily. 

Before  he  was  three  steps  into  the  room  he  had,  in  a  figure, 
appropriated  the  apartment  and  all  it  held,  and  wore  the  airs 
of  a  conqueror  riding  into  a  surrendered  city.  Favouring  his 
host  with  a  nod  and  a  finger  and  me  with  his  back,  "B.,"  says 
he,  "my  friend  Captain  Shooter;  a  demned  good  fellow!  His 
reverence  ye  have  met  before."  .  .  .  "  Crossed!"  he  cried, 

[261! 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

continuing  his  interrupted  monologue,  "the  thing  was  patent; 
a  most  demnable  swindle.  If  Tom  was  not  hocussed  I  wish  to 
Heaven  I  may  never  see  another  mill!  I  lodged  my  protest  as  the 
sponge  went  up.  The  referee  demurs  ?  —  he  does  ?  1  defy  him  to 
give  it  to  the  Linkman  !  All  bets  are  off ;  ye  may  say  you 
had  it  from  me." 

"Our  man  had  certainly  been  got  at,"  said  the  parson  de- 
murely, "I  drove  him  home.  He  is  dead." 

"The  deuce  he  is  ?  Haw!  did  ye  give  him  the  consolations 
of  religion,  Anerley?"  enquired  the  beau,  snuffing  (it  was 
whispered  himself  was  a  son  of  the  parsonage  ). 

"Why,  yes,  and  better;  I  got  the  truth  from  him  down  in 
writing  and  his  cross  to  it  before  he  passed!" 

"Begad,  you  are  a  credit  to  your  cloth!  Wales  shall  make 
ye  a  dean!" 

"  'Twas  bishop  last  week ! " 

"A  dean  I  said,  sir!"  beating  the  man  down  with  his  eye. 
Before  dinner  the  beau's  temper  was  capricious. 

"Ah,  me!  '  Poor  Tom's  a-cold/  "  sighed  the  comical  clergy- 
man, recovering  himself,  with  a  wink  to  Blakenham,  "and 
'tis  a  monstrous  pity,  for  I  can  testify  that  last  night  he  was 
fit  as  catgut,  and  was  certainly  the  best  man  we  have  had  since 
Broughton.  Now  what  d'ye  say  to  this  for  his  epitaph  ?  — 

'Here  Wiltshire  Tom,  the  bruiser  lies. 

Cut  down  before  his  prime; 
When  Gabriel's  trombone  bids  us  rise, 

May  Tom  come  up  to  time!' ' 

The  room  rang  with  guffaws. 

"My  brother,  Vyze,  permit  me,"  said  Blakenham. 

"Your  what,  B.  ?"  said  the  beau  pursuing  his  eye-glass. 
He  caught  it  with  much  deliberation,  and  turned  upon  me  the 
unabashed,  callous  scrutiny  of  a  coper  inspecting  a  horse, 

[262] 


CHAPTER  THIRTY-ONE 


"Your  brother,  ye  said  ?  damme,  he's  a  good  doer,  B.,  for  he'd 
cut  up  into  three  of  you,  and  leave  stuff  enough  for  a  light- 
weight jockey." 

Captain  and  parson  laughed  uproariously  and  explained  the 
jest  to  one  another. 

A  young  fellow  but  newly  launched  upon  society  will  take 
much  from  an  older  man  and  a  leader  of  the  mode:  his  inex- 
perience of  what  a  gentleman  should  resent  or  pass  over,  and 
his  repugnance  to  being  set  down  as  quarrelsome,  combine  to 
make  him  submiss.  I  had  come  to  see  Blakenham  and  meant 
to  out-stay  these  intruders,  yet  this  offensive  familiarity 
so  galled  me  that  but  for  my  brother's  sake  I  had  ordered  a 
coach. 

"My  lord,  dinner  is  served!"  said  the  butler  Vokes  at  the 
door.  The  beau  took  the  pas  unasked  and  unquestioned,  and 
before  I  had  crossed  the  threshold  I  had  called  my  temper  to 
heel  and  determined  to  see  the  thing  through,  for  this  man  was 
the  one  to  whom  Cotter  had  given  my  address.  In  a  different 
coat  and  a  better  light  and  uncovered  he  had  not  recalled  him- 
self to  me  at  his  entering;  as  he  swung  upon  his  heel  to  go  I 
recognized  the  action. 

The  walls  and  table  flashed  with  plate  and  shone  with  a 
hundred  candles  of  scented  wax.  It  was  a  room  grandly  propor- 
tioned, the  double  cube  of  the  brothers  Adam,  running  the  full 
depth  of  the  house  with  windows  at  either  end,  these  giving 
upon  the  street,  those  upon  the  garden. 

Blakenham  took  the  head  of  the  table  and  I  the  foot,  my 
nearest  convive  being  Shooter,  a  dull  dog  who  laughed  late 
at  the  parson's  burlesque  grace,  and  swore  'twas  dev'lish 
clever  and  that  he  would  be  deed  if  he  knew  how  a  feller  could 
put  it  together  like  that.  After  this  deliverance  the  man  knotted 
his  napkin  behind  his  ears,  embraced  his  plate  with  his  left  arm, 
and  fell  noisily  upon  his  soup. 

[263] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALirT 

I  studied  him  askance.  What  did  he  there  who  was  scarce 
fit  company  for  the  servant's  hall  ?  The  man's  seamed,  muscular 
cheek,  low  forehead  and  prominent  ears  shewed  the  fighter, 
and  it  occurred  to  me  that  he  had  been  brought  to  Fanshawe 
House  for  a  purpose. 

For  myself,  having  no  reputation  for  wit  to  sustain,  I  donned 
the  mail  of  silence. 

Attendants  marshalled  by  Yokes  flitted  watchfully  around 
the  table:  never  had  I  seen  so  much  wine  consumed  so  early 
in  the  evening.  Two  years  earlier  this  scene  of  prodigal  luxury 
with  its  appeal  to  the  appetites,  might  have  ensnared  me, 
now  it  disgusted.  I  had  sat  at  good  men's  feasts.  Again  and 
again  the  kindly  faces  I  had  left  beside  the  Derwent  came 
between  me  and  this  banquet  of  satyrs. 

As  for  the  dinner,  it  was  beyond  me;  I  was  ashamed  to  par- 
take of  it.  That  a  thing  was  out  of  its  season,  or  hard  to  come 
by,  seemed  better  reason  for  its  presence  than  its  palatability. 

The  beau  tasted  critically.  "Whether  ye  know  it  or  not,  B., 
these  ortolans  of  yours  are  but  larks. " 

"Hush!  don't  breathe  it,  I  beg,  before  the  men,  I  mean," 
whispered  his  host  in  alarm,  "de  Beausejour  is  plaguey  sen- 
sitive —  " 

"Haw!  a  second  Vatel  ?  'The  fish  fails  !'  Will  the  fellow  cut 
his  emigre  throat,  think  ye?" 

"Heaven  forbid!  He  is  not  a  bad  sort;  was  a  count  of  the 
empire  in  Lorraine  ten  years  ago,  with  sixty  quarterings, 
rights  of  chase  and  market,  and  the  high  and  middle  justice 
over  his  people. " 

"The  more  fool  he  that  he  didn't  keep  what  he'd  got," 
remarked  the  cynic,  who  spared  no  man. 

"Who  was  Fartle?"  asked  Shooter  with  his  mouth  full,  but 
no  one  answered. 

The  captain  guzzled;  I  mused;  the  other  end  of  the  table 

[264] 


CHAPTER  THIRTT-ONE 


talked  for  both.  Horses,  wine,  women  were  canvassed,  the 
latter,  indeed,  with  astounding  freedom;  foul  stories,  inuendos, 
blasphemies  darkened  the  board,  lightened  once  and  again  by 
the  parson's  sallies,  but  these  with  each  succeeding  course  grew 
more  doubtful,  the  Silenus  mask  slipping  lower  over  his  purpling 
face. 

I  sipped  warily,  holding  myself  in  hand  for  what  might 
follow,  remarking  (  as  a  boxer  remarks  his  match  whilst  the 
stakes  are  driving )  the  beau's  huge  shoulders,  long  arms  and 
broadened  hands,  the  build  of  your  waterman. 

"Wine  with  you,  sir!  —  Mr.  George,  ain't  it?  His  glass  is 
empty;  sherry  there  for  Mr.  Fanshawe!" 

The  beau  was  speaking;  my  brother's  silent-footed  servant 
was  at  my  elbow,  my  glass  was  brimmed  with  —  brandy*. 

I  raised  it  awkwardly,  it  slipt  and  all  was  spilled  —  (  nor 
so  ill  done  either  ).  Excusing  myself  with  simulated  confusion, 
I  vanished  behind  the  screen  which  hid  the  buffet  and  service 
door  and  had  Vokes  by  the  collar. 
'Twas  a  mistake,  sir!" 

"Which  mustn't  happen  twice!  What  have  you  ?" 

There  were  wines  on  ice  and  claret  in  warmed  flannels. 
Whisking  a  bottle  of  Bordeaux  from  its  jacket,  I  returned  to 
my  seat  handling  the  screw,  for  I  would  trust  none  of  them. 

"Pah!  the  French  lush!  women's  tipple,  siH  No  drink  for 
gentlemen, "  cried  the  beau,  pointing  scorn  at  my  choice  with 
a  jewelled  finger,  "I  do  ye  the  honour  to  take  wine  with  ye, 
sir,  not  vinegar!" 

"I  hope  Mr.  Vyze  will  drink  what  he  likes  in  my  brother's 
house,  and  I'll  do  the  same,"  said  I,  and  a  sense  of  confidence 
came  with  hearing  my  own  voice. 

But  the  captain,  with  an  oath,  swept  the  bottle  backhanded 
to  the  floor,  and  half  turning,  with  an  elbow  on  the  board, 
stared  me  insolently  between  the  eyes.  I  saw  Vokes  drive  his 

[265] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QU4LITT 

men  from  the  room,  heard  the  closing  of  the  service  door  and 
a  key  turned.  It  had  come;  well,  let  it  come,  then! 

Small  help  was  to  be  had  from  Blakenham  who  was  fallen 
back  in  his  chair  with  wig  awry,  hiccupping  and  fanning  him- 
self with  a  napkin,  the  sweat  raddling  his  painted  cheeks. 
His  sudden  drunkenness  surprised  me,  his  last  glass  of  sherry 
had  done  it.  Drugged  or  drunk,  he  was  helpless,  weeping  for 
Lucille,  and  babbling  of  Sproughton  and  tender  passages  in  a 
way  that  made  my  cheeks  to  burn,  for  I  would  not  have  breathed 
the  name  of  my  little  mistress  in  that  company  for  the  Crown 
jewels. 

It  was  a  hot  night,  and  though  both  windows  stood  wide,  not 
a  candle  guttered. 

Now,  I  had  suffered  severely  once  for  a  hasty  movement  and 
an  exclamation,  and  had  learned  my  lesson.  Plainly  my  best 
chance  lay  in  keeping  my  seat,  and  holding  my  peace.  Even  a 
hired  bully  pauses  ere  he  stabs  a  sitting  man  who  has  not  opened 
his  mouth. 

I  would  give  away  no  point  in  the  game;  no,  nor  let  them 
steal  one  if  that  were  their  next  move. 

It  had  certainly  not  occurred  to  me  to  bring  my  cane  to 
table,  but  the  captain,  who  wore  the  frogs  of  some  over-seas 
service,  had  carried  his  hanger  up-stairs  and  unhooked  it  be- 
fore sitting;  the  weapon  stood  in  an  angle  of  a  recess  behind 
my  chair,  and  beside  it  the  beau's  small-sword,  the  short  ra- 
pier, light  in  hand,  then  carried  by  men  of  fashion  in  evening 
dress,  but  fast  going  out,  and  to-day  restricted  to  the  Windsor 
uniform  and  occasions  of  State. 

These  weapons  were  much  on  my  mind  in  those  hot  seconds, 
for  my  fix'd  resolve  was  to  bar  the  way  to  them  at  all  costs. 
There  were  ugly  stories  afloat  at  the  time  of  the  Dublin  beaux, 
Killcoachy,  Killkelly  and  Tiger  Roche,  stories  which  made  a 
man  grit  his  teeth.  Men  of  this  kidney  wore  an  inch  of  bare 

[266] 


CHAPTER  THIRTT-ONE 


point  peeping  from  a  snipt  scabbard,  with  which,  when  the 
humour  was  upon  them,  to  prick  the  legs  of  some  inoffensive 
stranger  until  the  maddened  wretch  drew  —  only  to  be  mirac- 
ulously spitted,  like  a  lark,  men  said.  Just  a  smile,  a  slow 
step  back,  a  headlong  lunge,  and  nine  inches  of  steel  would  be 
through  the  back  of  his  coat  before  he  was  on  guard.  These 
were  Irish  manners,  certainly,  but  I  knew  nothing  of  my  fellow 
guests'  characters  to  inspire  confidence,  and  disliked  my  posi- 
tion in  a  locked  room  with  a  brace  of  ruffians,  who  had  a  fortune 
to  gain  by  a  sly  thrust,  and  a  tame  parson  at  hand  to  swear  it  was 
an  accident! 

So  whilst  my  bottle  rolled  across  the  carpet,  and  the  captain 
leered  upon  me  with  out-thrust  chin,  I  drew  heels  under  me 
and  kept  hands  still. 

"Curse  you,  Shooter!"  called  the  beau  down  the  table,  "do 
I  or  you  manage  this  ? "  Then,  after  a  tingling  pause,  dur- 
ing which  I  heard  my  heart  thump  and  the  click  with  which  the 
master-blackguard  shut  his  toothpick,  "Gad,  you're  right,  this 
hawbuck  hasn't  the  heart  of  a  louse!  —  Skewers!" 

The  man  commonly  used  an  elaborate  drawl,  but  his  last 
word  snapped  like  a  gun-flint.  We  were  all  three  upon  our  feet 
together.  Their  chairs  fell,  I  lifted  mine  high  with  a  hand  on 
either  side  of  the  seat  ( there  was  no  room  to  swing  it  —  Shooter 
was  upon  me  like  a  bull-dog  ),  and  drove  it  down  feet  fore- 
most over  his  head,  bonnetting  the  fellow,  as  one  might  say. 
His  hands  fell  from  my  coat-facings,  yet  something  took  me 
a  buffet  in  the  face.  I  cared  not,  but  leaving  him  to  digest  what 
he  had  got,  were  it  little  or  much,  sprang  sidelong  for  Vyze, 
who  had  reached  the  swords. 

To  my  utter  amazement  he  stood  with  his  back  to  them,  his 
hands  pressed  to  his  ribs,  his  open  mouth  emitting  a  shout  of 
laughter!  The  room  rang  and  echoed  with  laughter,  nor  to  his 
alone.  Afire  with  fear  and  anxiety,  I  spun  round  and  was 

[267] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITT 

caught  in  the  arms  of  a  man  taller  even  than  myself,  a  magnifi- 
cent fellow,  who  slapt  me  upon  the  shoulder,  still  hooting  and 
coughing  with  merriment,  the  cause  of  which  I  failed  to  discern. 

It  was  Bob  Dawnay,  grown  surprisingly,  and  his  chestnut 
curls  hidden  under  a  plaister  of  white  powder.  The  door  stood 
open,  the  lock  burst  by  his  kick;  he  had  manifestly  vaulted 
the  table  to  my  aid,  and  still  he  laughed,  and  still  the  beau 
laughed  with  him,  leaning  helpless  against  the  wainscot,  an- 
swering peal  with  peal! 

" Bear-fightin',  was  it,  Doodles?  —  looked  deucedly  like 
it,  and  two  to  one!  'Damme,  I'm  with  ye/  says  I,  but  I  was  too 
late,  ha!  ha!  'Tis  a  pantomime  trick  for  Grimaldi!  By  the 
Lord,  'twould  bring  the  very  roof  down  at  Drury!  Where  is 
Pantaloon  ?  who  the  dickens  is  he,  and  how  the  devil  shall  we 
get  him  out  ? " 

I  turned,  and  there,  at  my  elbow,  in  the  recess  stood  Shooter, 
writhing  stiffly,  but  pinioned  helplessly  in  the  chair,  for  his 
head  had  driven  out  the  seat1  from  below  into  my  face,  and  the 
frame  passing  downward  and  fitting  tightly  around  his  elbows, 
bound  him  painfully  within  it  as  with  ropes.  "But,  hay!  What 
have  we  here?  —  Swords!"  cried  my  champion.  "Won't 
do,  Vyze;  'tis  our  rule  at  Knightsbridge  never  to  skylark 
with  the  toasting-forks  in  the  room."  He  caught  the  weapons 
and,  still  laughing,  flung  them  through  the  open  window  into 
the  garden. 

"Now,  I'm  for  ye!  turn  your  man  loose,  Vyze!  Which  way 
shall  we  extract  him  ?  Head  first  or  t'other  way  ?  Or  is  it  a  case 
for  a  meat  saw?  But  —  Hulloa!"  his  voice  checking  sudden- 
ly, and  his  whole  bearing  changing,  "How  came  you  here? 
Yes,  I  know  ye";  he  plucked  a  candle  from  a  sconce  and  held  it 
to  the  prisoner's  face,  "Keep  your  dirty  chin  up,  ye  black- 

*An  early  example  of  the  detachable  framed  seats  known  later  as  "Trafal- 
gar*."—  EDI. 

[268] 


CHAPTER  THIRTr-ONE 


guard!  — Vokes!  I  say,  Vokes,  there!  fetch  your  men! "  His  voice 
rang  like  a  bugle,  he  stood  there  towering  above  the  cringing 
creature  in  the  chair  and  facing  Vyze,  who  came  with  a  counte- 
nance of  majestic  wonder  and  indignation. 

"Sir!  Mr.  Dawnay!  what  d'ye  mean?  My  acquaintance, 
Captain  Shooter  —  " 

"Of  what  service,  sir?"  asked  the  Guardsman  with  icy 
politeness,  his  eye  upon  the  beau  and  his  hand  upon  the  prison- 
er, whom  he  roughly  bade  to  be  silent. 

"The  Jamaica  Fencibles,  he  says;  indeed,  I  know  him  but 
slightly;  at  the  same  time,  my  personal  —  " 

"Mr.  Vyze,  you've  been  deceived  —  played  upon;  this 
fellow  was  Major  Hogan,  of  the  Spanish  Guard,  at  Bath  last 
season.  He  had  marked  cards  upon  him." 

"Stap  my  vitals,  Dawnay!  don't  say  so!  Don't  breathe  it, 
for  my  sake!  Marked  cards!  What  infamy!  And  I  brought 
him  here!  Perdition!  Un  escroc !  Let's  turn  the  thing  out, 
and  let  it  run  and  forget  we  ever  saw  it,  faugh!"  —  "  Here,  you 
fellows!"  he  called  to  the  men  who  hovered  at  the  entry, 
"take  this  person  downstairs,  get  him  out  of  this,  and  put  him 
to  the  door!" 

It  was  mighty  well  done;  the  man's  indignation  rang  al- 
most true;  his  pose  was  magnificent;  Shooter  or  Hogan  could 
not  meet  his  eye;  cowered  before  him,  and  shuffled  from  the 
room  into  the  hands  of  the  lackeys,  whilst  his  master,  ignoring 
me,  ran  his  arm  through  Dawnay 's  with  boisterous  laughter. 

"Ha!  ha!  What  a  dog  you  are,  Dawnay!  a  devil  of  a  fellow! 
Cleared  that  table  like  Harlequin,  or  Springheeled  Jack,  begad! 
Eh  ?  rooms  just  on  the  other  side  of  the  street  ?  Heard  your 
old  friend's  voice  and  stept  across  ?  No  wonder;  windows  open 
and  as  hot  as  hell!  Luckiest  thing  in  the  world  for  all  of  us; 
exit  le  voyou,  enter  the  Life-guardsman.  Ye'H  make  a  night  of 
it  with  us,  of  course.  What  shall  it  be  ?  The  bones  or  pic* 

[269] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALirr 

tures  ?  Bones!  Done  with  you!"  He  rang  for  dice  and  boxes 
as  if  the  place  were  his  own. 

The  man's  versatility,  readiness  and  address,  were  confound- 
ing. He  had  taken  my  brother  out  of  my  hands  a  couple  of 
hours  before  and  now  appropriated  my  friend.  He  was  master 
of  the  situation,  king  of  the  company,  seized  the  initiative, 
and  kept  his  lead.  No  laugh  so  infectious  as  his  had  I  ever 
heard;  his  broad,  daring  wit,  dazzled  and  disarmed  me;  I  knew 
that  he  had  sought  my  life  twice  at  least,  supposing  the  brandy 
to  be  undrugged,  but  what  could  I  prove  ? 

Meanwhile,  as  I  sat  mumchance  like  the  countryfied  clod  that 
I  was,  this  audacious  adventurer  dared  me  with  his  eye. 

To  rid  my  unfortunate  brother  out  of  such  hands  was  past 
wit  of  mine;  nor  was  my  own  escape  assured. 

For,  look  you,  everything  played  his  game,  and  was  food 
for  his  enormous  spirits.  The  spacious  bonhomie  with  which 
he  presented  Anerley,  for  instance,  whom  Dawnay  knew  by 
name,  Anerley,  who  assisted  his  own  introduction  by 
emerging  from  beneath  the  table,  whither  he  had  fled  for  safety, 
in  Blakenham's  wig!  My  brother,  who  had  slipt  to  the  floor 
drowsily,  awakened  by  the  hubbub,  crawling  forth  after  him 
—  (  "  like  animals  from  the  Ark"  )  —  in  the  cleric's  head-gear, 
and  fractiously  refusing  to  exchange;  in  his  treatment  of 
this  incident,  I  say,  he  set  himself  in  the  finest  light,  and  had 
Dawnay  half-slain  with  merriment,  and  convinced  —  as  was 
everyone  else  in  town  —  that  there  was  but  one  Beau  Vyze, 
whilst  my  glum  face  and  lumpishness  chilled  the  warmth  of 
old  friendship. 

Then  it  was  he  and  none  else  could  handle  Blakenham. 
With  an  irresistibly  humorous  solicitude  he  caressed  and 
commanded  him  into  submission,  propt  him  into  an  arm- 
chair, where  he  presently  snored,  the  parson's  wig  crowned 
with  roses,  the  roi  faineant  of  our  resumed  revels. 

[270] 


CHAPTER  THIRTT-ONE 


"By-the-by,  ye  were  on  duty  to-day,  Bob,"  said  the  beau 
tossing  a  box  to  Anerley. 

"Why,  yes,  you  may  say  so,  for  'twas  certainly  not  pleasure, 
and  lost  me  the  fight.  I  rode  at  His  Majesty's  coach  door 
for  nine  mortal  hours;  whew!  the  next  man  who  likes  'em  may 
have  my  boots!  Hot!  They  would  have  blistered  an  ungloved 
hand  and  held  the  sun  like  a  glass-house!" 

"And  which  corps  paraded  best  ?  the  men  at  the  Bank  or  — " 

"The  Artillery  Company  at  Finsbury.  The  Prince  looked 
vastly  well  in  their  uniform.  He's  their  captain-general,  ye 
know;  a  queer  rank,  ain't  it?" 

"Was  the  Fitzherbert  handy  ?" 

"Don't  know.  Didn't  see  her, "said  Dawnay  shortly;  adding, 
after  a  pause,  "D'ye  think,  Vyze,  honestly,  there's  anything 
in  this  rumour  ? " 

The  parson,  throwing  and  filling,  for  the  dice  lay  between 
us  as  we  sat,  hemmed  meaningly,  with  half-closed  eyes  and  a 
mouth  that  implied  intimate  knowledge  of  unspeakable  things. 

"Cough  it  up,  Sir  Parson,  it  lies  too  heavily  upon  your 
reverend  chest,"  cried  Vyze  smacking  the  little  man's  plump 
back  and  adding,  "there's  nothing  so  demnably  vulgar  as  a 
secret  between  gentlemen." 

"They  —  are — wedded  already, "  whispered  the  cleric,"  actu- 
ally, legally,  irrevocably,  if  priest,  book,  and  ring  mean  anything! " 

"  Wha-a-a-t?"  cried  the  others. 

"Fact.  I've  seen  the  lines;  handled  'em.  Know  the  man  well 
who  tied  'em  up."  He  nodded  confirmation,  and  throwing 
carelessly,  the  dice  ran  across  to  my  hand  and  remained  there 
whilst  the  talk  proceeded:  no  one  at  the  table  noticing  a  dull 
fellow  who,  feeling  hugely  bored,  aimlessly  remarked  a  tiny 
blue  flaw  in  the  ace-face  of  one  of  the  cubes. 

"Those  lines  will  be  worth  a  king's  ransom  one  of  these 
days,"  said  the  beau  darkly. 

[271] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

"And  when  that  day  comes,  Wales  will  stick  at  nothing  to 
get  them  —  eh  ? "  asked  Dawnay  softly. 

"But  my  friend  knows  where  to  hide  them,"  said  Anerley, 
"his  bankers  —  " 

The  beau  cursed  all  tradesmen  for  rogues,  and  bankers  for 
the  most  demnable  rogues  of  all.  "If  the  things  were  mine  I'd 
trust  no  living  soul;  the  proofs  should  sit,  walk,  and  sleep 
with  me." 

For  a  moment  the  native  wolf  peeped  out;  the  fellow  had 
let  himself  go.  I  noted  a  jewelled  hand  press  the  brocaded 
waistcoat.  In  a  wink  he  was  himself  again,  the  careless,  lordly 
gamester. 

"A  main,  then?  What  stakes?  Please  yourselves,  boys!" 

"Vyze  regards  your  business  man  as  an  unredeemed  bite," 
said  Anerley;  "now  I  like  to  think  of  him  as  trying  to  be  honest 
and  —  occasionally  succeeding. "  He  delicately  took  snuff 
and  glanced  around  him  for  applause. 

I  thought  of  poor  hard-bestead  Medcalf,  the  Moorhouses, 
the  Ellwoods,  and  others  I  had  known,  and  my  gorge  rose  at  the 
thought  of  their  innocent,  laborious  lives  defamed  by  these 
lick-spittles.  I  loathed  my  company. 

Now,  the  dice,  of  which  I  knew  little  or  nothing,  had  always 
seemed  to  my  ignorance  the  fairest  of  hazards,  since  no  skill 
can  controul  the  fall  of  them,  and  their  chances  are  equal 
whether  to  king  or  cornet. 

At  that  time  all  men  of  condition  played  more  or  less;  my 
father,  when  his  company  had  seemed  to  demand  it,  had  put 
his  guinea  on  the  main  with  as  little  compunction  as  one  of 
you  ( I  fear  )  puts  his  upon  a  horse.  It  was  the  fashionable  mode 
of  wiling  away  an  hour,  and  I  myself  was  far  from  entertain- 
ing at  the  beginning  of  that  evening  the  aversion  to  play  which 
I  held  at  its  close. 

That  I  would  rather  have  stood  out  goes  without  saying; 

[272] 


CHAPTER  THIRTr-ONE 


the  company  was  reason  enough  for  me,  but  not,  I  feared,  for 
Dawnay;  my  suspicions  were  incapable  of  proof.  Had  I  meant 
to  make  a  quarrel  of  it  I  should  have  done  so  at  Bob's  first 
entry;  that  moment  was  past,  let  slip  with  my  usual  unreadi- 
ness: it  was  now  too  late. 

Nor  could  I  plead  want  of  means;  my  fortune  had  been  the 
talk  of  the  town  for  months.  To  refuse  to  play  might  give  um- 
brage to  my  old  friend,  who  might  regard  the  caprice  as  offen- 
sive, unless  indeed  he  fell  in  with  my  humour  and  left  the  house 
with  me.  But  this  was  to  leave  my  unhappy  brother  in  the  hands 
of  men  of  whose  motives  I  entertained  vehement  suspicions. 

I  would  concede  no  point  to  the  enemy.  The  hundred  pounds 
that  I  had  about  me  the  rogues  were  welcome  to,  if  they  could 
get  it  honestly;  what  was  such  a  sum  to  me  now  ?  I  could  afford 
to  lose  that  and  more;  call  it  if  you  will  the  price  of  Blakenham's 
safety,  or  of  Bob's  friendship.  As  for  the  game,  win  or  lose, 
at  starting  I  cared  not  a  doit. 

A  small  card-table  stood  in  a  recess,  the  beau,  who  settled 
everything,  put  up  the  flaps  and  placed  us,  himself  as  my  vis-a- 
vis, Dawnay  and  Anerley  on  either  hand. 

We  began  by  setting  mains  of  five,  a  couple  of  guineas  on 
each,  and  in  ten  minutes  I  had  doubled  my  hundred. 

It  was  Vyze's  throw,  he  toyed  with  the  box.  "Ye're  a  tyro, 
Mr.  Fanshawe,  I'll  swear;  there's  no  luck  like  a  man's  on  his 
first  night;  we  must  certainly  protect  ourselves.  Turn  your 
chairs,  gentlemen,  and  change  the  stakes!"  He  arose  and  spun 
his  chair  smiling,  told  a  wicked  story,  vouched  for  it  with  a 
full-bodied  blasphemy,  and  in  the  same  breath  offered  to  throw 
me  for  my  winnings.  He  won,  and  proposed  to  double  the  stake 
and  repeat  the  hazard. 

"I  have  not  the  money  upon  me." 

He  laughed  uproariously  and,  Dawnay  chiming  in,  my  reso- 
lution crumbled,  and  that  time  I  won. 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITT 

The  parson  had  dropt  out.  "Suffer  me  as  a  spectator, 
gentlemen,"  he  grinned,  displaying  the  lining  of  an  empty 
pocket.  "When  that  deanery  falls  in  I'll  demand  my  revenge. 
Give  it  up,  Vyze,  'tis  not  your  night,  this  youngster  will  skin 
you  like  a  lamb."  Dawnay  joined  in  the  jeer,  the  position 
amused  him,  it  began  to  amuse  me. 

The  beau  smiled  with  what  seemed  a  forced  cheerfulness, 
and  offered  to  set  me  for  a  cool  thousand,  three  the  main. 

"Take  him,  Doodles,  and  I'll  stand  in  with  ye!"  cried 
the  Life-guardsman,  and  in  ?  trice  there  were  two  thousand  at 
stake  and  we  had  won. 

This  was  all  very  well,  but  the  dice  which  I  held  in  my 
hand,  and  had  just  won  with,  were  not  the  dice  I  had  fingered 
before  playing.  What  did  this  mean  ?  or  did  it  mean  anything  ? 
I  had  little  time  for  thinking,  the  Rev.  Byng  acting  as  chorus, 
"Fritillus,  jucundus  fritillus!"  the  beau  playing  fast  and 
swearing  loud,  rattling  the  dice  violently  at  times  and  indulg- 
ing in  frequent  and  sudden  changes  of  posture,  talking  and 
gesticulating  incessantly. 

His  antics  struck  me  as  ill-bred  and  extraordinary  odd 
for  a  man  who  claimed  to  lead  the  town.  Bob  thought  the  man 
overcome,  and  told  me  as  much  with  his  eye;  drunk  he  was  not, 
however,  but  either  taking  liberties  with  his  company  or  acting 
a  part. 

As  for  the  terms  he  used,  they  were  strange  to  me  at  the 
time.  The  parson  quoted  some  'varsity  tag  and  cried  "Venus!" 
at  a  good  throw,  so  much  comes  back  to  me;  the  rest  I  have 
long  forgotten.  Out  o'  date  flash  is  the  sorriest  of  stuff,  and 
dicing  flash  the  stalest  of  all,  for  the  dice  are  now  universally 
reprobated,  and,  save  for  backgammon,  forbid  by  rule  in  all 
good  clubs. 

I  won  and  won  again.  Bob  still  backing  me,  enjoying  the 
joke  and  grinning  sardonic  approval. 

[274] 


CHAPTER  THIRTT-ONE 


"Behold  the  man  that  'didn't  know'!  Invincible  ignorance!" 
( 'twas  the  Rev.  Byng  again.)  "Trust  a  novice,  indeed!"  he  ex- 
claimed, raising  snowy  little  hands.  "The  town  will  be  talking 
of  this  to-morrow;  cry  off,  Vyze,  'tis  madness  to  persist. " 

"Never!  I've  my  reputation  to  uphold.  Come,  lads,  I'm 
pricked,  but  still  fighting;  I'll  set  four  thousand  on  a  single 
throw,  dare  either  of  ye  cover  it  ?  Aye,  with  each  of  ye  —  with 
both  of  ye  — I  will!" 

"Four  apiece,  begad  ?"  asked  Dawnay  incredulously,  "eight 
on  the  turn  of  the  die  ?  Is  it  ever  done  ?  Well,  shall  we  say  yes, 
Doodles  ?  harden  our  hearts  and  ride  at  it  ?  Fore  George, 
I'm  with  ye,  whether  at  bear-fightin'  or  these  things,  'tis 
plainly  your  night!" 

But  the  luck  had  turned.  In  half-an-hour  the  Life-guardsman, 
to  use  his  own  expression,  was  driven  against  the  ropes.  "He 
has  thrown  double-sixes  four  times  running;  you  and  I  are 
younger  sons,  Doodles,  and  I,  at  all  event,  have  done  enough 
for  one  bout.  To  bed,  my  boy!" 

"Pull  up,  if  you  like,  Bob,  but  don't  go  yet,  I  want  a  chat 
with  you  about  old  times,  and  will  cross  the  street  with  ye  in 
ten  minutes." 

"A  bargain!  I'll  time  ye,  and  if  you  have  not  had  your 
bellyful  in  ten  ye  may  reckon  upon  being  carried  forth  neck 
and  crop  by  main  force;  for,  seriously,  this  is  flatly  against  my 
advice,  and  there's  the  deuce  and  all  of  mischief  may  be  done 
in  less  time  than  that!" 

"Let  your  friend  please  himself,  Dawnay;  he  is  a  rare 
plucked  one,  and  I  like  his  style.  Younger  son  or  not,  his  face 
is  warrant  enough  for  me!"  said  the  beau  grandly. 

So  we  sat  down  to  play  it  out  by  the  stop-watch. 

I  lost  fast  and  heavily,  the  beau  keeping  tally. 

Why  did  I  yield  to  this  delirium?  you  ask.  Partly,  no 
doubt,  from  young  blood  and  obstinate  pride,  not  I  verily  be- 

[275] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITT 

lieve  for  the  love  of  play,  still  less  for  lucre.  The  hope  of  beating 
the  fellow  at  his  own  game  had  come  to  me  earlier  in  the  night, 
the  desperate  hope  of  saving  my  brother's  fortune  by  risking 
my  own,  if  you  will  put  it  that  way.  Not  only  for  Blakenham's 
sake,  either,  for  the  thought  of  this  lascivious  perfumed  cox- 
comb, mouthing  his  fruity  oaths  as  he  clattered  the  dice, 
master  of  my  old  home,  revolted  me. 

Owner  of  the  entailed  estate  he  could  never  be,  but  he  would 
fell  the  park  oaks  that  I  loved,  the  trees  I  had  climbed  for  hawk's 
eggs,  would  sell  the  Hall  for  its  bricks  and  lead,  put  up  my 
mother's  harp  to  auction,  and  fill  her  boudoir  with  frowzy  Jew 
brokers  bidding  for  her  easy-chair  and  reticule,  aye,  for  the  bed 
she  had  lain  upon!  I  say  this  strung  me  to  the  fighting  pitch. 

For  myself,  truly  I  feared  little,  and  pitied  myself  not  at 
all;  I  had  tried  my  strength  as  a  man,  and  knew  my  hands  could 
keep  me  honestly.  As  for  this  new  mad  inheritance,  I  had 
held  it  but  thirty-six  hours,  had  not  yet  seen  stick  nor  stone 
of  it.  The  thing  had  no  claims  upon  me,  but  lay  apart,  unreal 
and  unloved.  I  would  risk  its  last  acre  to  save  the  old  house  of 
the  Fanshawes. 

I  suppose  we  were  well  into  the  second  five  minutes,  and 
I  was  dropping  my  patrimony  by  farms  at  every  hazard. 
Dawnay's  face,  when  I  once  glanced  up  at  it,  was  gloomy  and 
long.  The  dice  lay  with  me;  my  antagonist,  awaiting  my  cast,  sat 
back  in  his  chair,  with  both  hands  plunged  in  the  ample  pockets 
of  his  skirted  waistcoat.  He  had  assumed  this  pose  fifty  times 
during  the  evening.  What  in  the  attitude  and  disposal  of  those 
hands  seemed  familiar,  recalled  some  bygone  scene  or  adventure, 
where  and  when  ?  Except  thrice  in  my  soldiering  days,  I  had 
never  thrown  dice  before,  yet  —  In  a  flash  memory  showed  me 
a  damp  tallatt,  the  rain  dripping  from  its  thatched  eaves,  and  a 
couple  of  Gipsy  thimble-riggers  sitting  face  to  face  dicing  upon 
the  upturned  bottom  of  a  broken  bushel. 

[276] 


CHAPTER  THIRTT-ONE 


Could  such  similarities  in  action  and  attitude  be  merely 
accidental  ?  In  dress,  too  ?  The  short  tight  gilet  was  com- 
ing in,  was  worn  already  by  the  bucks  for  walking  and 
riding;  but  this  fellow's  loose,  deep-skirted  vest  had  pockets 
large  enough  to  easily  admit  and  release  a  doubled  fist,  the 
very  counterpart  of  the  long-bodied  sleeved-waistcoats  of  those 
hawkers. 

This  was  a  crucial  moment.  Did  I  suspect  ?  I  did.  I  do  not 
mean  that  for  one  instant  I  imagined  that  this  man  had  ever 
gone  a-gypsying,  or  that  I  had  encountered  him  whilst  myself 
upon  tramp.  No;  those  tinkers  whom  I  had  overlooked  at  their 
cogging  had  been  lean  little  fellows,  say  half  the  size  of  this 
portly  gamester;  it  was  not  the  man,  but  the  make  of  his  dress, 
the  placing  of  its  pockets,  and  the  play  of  his  hands  that  drove 
me  back  upon  memory,  and  first  aroused,  and  then  certified 
my  suspicions. 

I  have  been  told  that  mine  is  a  wooden  face:  it  possibly 
lacks  expression,  and  for  once  its  homeliness  served  me  well. 
The  beau  must  have  been  used  to  study  the  countenances  of 
his  dupes,  but  for  some  reason  failed  to  read  suspicion  upon  my 
mask  of  tan  and  freckles. 

"Time  for  one  more,  and  one  only!  Cut  it  short,  Doodles, 
you've  dropt  your  guineas  like  a  hero,  or  a  jackass!  aye,  more 
of  'em  than  you'll  ever  see  again!"  There  was  deep  chagrin 
in  my  friend's  voice. 

The  beau  smote  the  table  lightly  with  his  massive  white 
fingers,  regarding  me  with  affected  admiration.  "Begad,  you're 
a  giant,  Mr.  Fanshawe!  I've  played  with  earls  by  the  score, 
I've  played  with  marquesses,  I've  played  with  royal  dukes: 
but,  for  a  loser,  sir,  damme  if  Wales  himself  is  your  equal! 
You'll  conquer  fortune  before  the  night  is  out,  trust  a  man  who 
has  seen  some  life,  sir!  Our  final  hazard,  this  ?  Well,  'last  and 
best!'  You  stand  to  owe  me  sixty-seven  thousand  odd  if  I've 

[2771 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

the  count  right!  Double  it:  I'll  set  ye  for  another  hundred  and 
forty  thousand  as  a  decider.  What  say  you  ?" 

"Don't!"  blurted  Dawnay,  with  living  fear  in  his  eyes. 

I  looked  my  fate  in  the  face,  set  my  teeth,  and  drew  long 
breaths  through  my  nostrils,  as  I  was  used  to  do  when  challeng- 
ing a  big  blind  fence,  some  great  overgrown  hairy  horror  with 
an  "if"  on  the  unknown  far  side  of  it. 

"Done  with  you!  —  seven's  the  main!"  said  I,  and  called 
upon  every  sinew  for  what  I  felt  was  coming. 

Dawnay  growled  savagely,  and  turned  his  back  upon  the 
table,  unable  to  face  what  he  feared,  but  I  didn't  heed  him. 

My  antagonist's  luck  —  if  it  were  luck  —  was  phenomenal, 
for  my  first  six  throws  were  good  ones;  they  staggered  him; 
at  the  seventh  he  let  pent  breath  in  a  sigh  of  relief. 

The  parson  nodding  in  his  chair  roused  to  watch  the  big- 
gest gamble  of  an  age  notorious  for  reckless  play.  They  may 
have  plunged  more  heavily  at  Versailles  in  the  old  time,  but 
in  London,  I  have  been  told,  there  had  been  no  such  stakes 
since  Lord  March  rooked  young  Charles  Fox  for  a  hundred 
thousand  guineas  at  Arthur's,  at  a  single  sitting. 

It  was  the  beau's  last  throw,  and  nothing  but  a  double  six 
could  serve.  Perhaps  he  held  me  too  cheap,  or  his  nerve  failed 
at  the  last,  why  ask  ?  The  dawn  was  brightening,  the  morning 
air  bellied  the  curtains  and  blew  cool  across  our  hot  faces; 
a  sneeze  shook  him,  and  for  the  fraction  of  a  second  three  dice 
lay  upon  the  cloth! 

Anerley  caught  his  breath  like  the  hiss  of  a  snake  and 
sprang  clear,  for  the  table  went  over  and  with  one  word 
"Cheat!"  I  had  the  swindler  by  the  wrists  and  we  rolled  upon 
the  floor  together. 

His  right  hand  was  too  strong  for  my  left  and  wrenched 
itself  free,  was  into  its  pocket  and  out  again  and  was  hammering 
my  head  (  which,  by  the  grace  of  God,  is  thick  enough  to  stand 

[278] 


CHAPTER  THIRTr-ONE 


worse  usage  );  I  was  top-dog  and  very  strong  and  active,  and 
when  Dawnay  tore  us  apart,  the  right  half  of  my  man's  waist- 
coat came  along  with  me  with  a  shriek  of  rending  silk. 

"Doodles!  are  ye  mad?  What —  ?" 

"No Hook  there,  Bob!" 

Three  dice  lay  upon  the  turkey  carpet  between  us  as  they 
had  fallen  when  the  table  tilted,  and  by  luck,  in  close  contact. 
But  before  Dawnay  saw  them,  the  beau's  foot  covered  them 
and  was  in  turn  held  down  by  mine,  and  we  stood  thus,  knee  to 
knee,  he  snatching  at  the  rag  of  brocade,  I  holding  it  behind 
me  and  fending  him  off. 

The  man's  passion  was  appalling,  his  language  beyond  im- 
agination, but,  as  neither  of  us  would  budge,  Dawnay  thrust 
his  bulk  between,  demanding  silence. 

This  was  the  last  thing  Vyze  wanted;  the  man  was  desperate- 
ly playing  against  time,  hoping  for  an  inrush  of  servants,  for 
the  watch,  for  any  accident.  Clamouring  for  pistols  (  he  was 
for  fighting  me  across  a  handkerchief)  he  called  upon  his  Maker 
to  strike  him  dead  if  he  stirred  a  foot  until  the  word  to  fire 
was  given. 

"Bob!  Old  Bob!"  I  cried  in  my  friend's  ear,  "keep  your 
head,  man!  We  have  him!  There  are  three  dice  under  this 
foot  of  his  that  I'm  keeping  down!  and  I  think  I  have  my  hand 
upon  the  fourth." 

"Mr.  Vyze!  Mr.  Vyzey  I  say!  Listen  to  me,  sir!  Ye  must 
and  shall!"  roared  Dawnay,  who  was  as  much  older  than  his 
years  as  I  was  younger.  His  great  handsome  face  was  set  and 
formidable,  his  jaw  as  underhung  as  a  bull-dog's:  a  man  to 
fear  and  to  trust.  Sixteen  years  later,  almost  to  a  day,  he  lay 
dead,  with  just  such  a  face,  amidst  a  ring  of  Buonaparte's 
cuirassiers. 

The  beau  had  bellowed  himself  hoarse,  his  voice  was  crack- 
ing, he  had  no  choice  but  to  obey;  but  he  held  his  ground,  or 

[279] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

I  held  him  to  it,  and  the  three  of  us  stood  pressed  together 
thus.  Anerley,  white  and  quaking,  set  the  table  upon  its 
legs  and  took  post  behind  it,  watching  to  see  which  way 
the  cat  would  jump.  But  at  the  moment  none  thought  of 
Anerley. 

"Sir,  listen  to  me!"  Dawnay  began  again,  and  his  voice 
made  the  glass  ring.  "My  friend  here  shall  give  ye  satisfaction 
if  I  so  advise  him.  He's  no  poltroon,  and  has  fought  before. 
(I've  heard  of  ye,  Doodles!)  But  you  must  clear  yourself 
first  —  " 

"Clear  myself!  from  the  lying  aspersions  of  an  unlicked 
cub  ?  An  insolent  boor,  a  dastardly  lout  presuming  upon  his 
weight  and  size?  Clear  myself?  7  —  with  my  repute,  who 
am  received  everywhere  ?  This  serves  me  right  for  playing 
with  boys!  Wales  shall  hear  of  this,  Mr.  Guardsman!  No!  I 
will  not  listen  to  ye!  Pistols,  I  say!  Vokes!  Where  the  devil 
is  Vokes  ?  Fetch  him,  Anerley  and  bring  up  the  men!" 

"This  won't  help  you,  Vyze,  believe  me.  I'm  expressing  no 
opinion,  but  Fanshawe  says  you  have  three  dice  under  your 
foot.  You  must  move  it,  sir.  Lift  yours,  Doodles ! " 

I  obeyed.  In  a  flash  the  gamester  was  upon  his  knees,  pointing 
with  both  hands  to  two  dice! 

The  trick  was  amazingly  well  done,  for  the  fellow  was  heavy 
and  tall.  It  confounded  Bob  for  the  moment,  and  well-nigh 
confounded  me. 

"And  now,  young  man,  I  will  thank  ye  for  my  waistcoat. " 
He  got  to  his  feet,  making  a  snatch  at  it,  but  I  retreated. 
"In  good  time,  sir."  I  was  studying  his  face,  his  changed  voice 
puzzled  me.  "Now,  Bob,  watch  this!  —  keep  him  off  me,  man!" 
—  I  reversed  the  pocket,  a  die  fell  to  the  table,  rolled,  and 
lay,  six  uppermost.  I  caught  and  boxed  it,  rattled  and  threw, 
it  was  a  second  six!  Again  I  threw,  and  got  a  third! 

"Cogged!"  said  Bob,  shortly. 

[280] 


CHAPTER  THIRTT-ONE 


"What  d'ye  say  to  that,  rascal?"  I  asked,  bluntly  enough, 
for  my  blood  was  up. 

"Pooh!  Who  hides  can  find!  The  clown  placed  it  there, 
you  saw  him,  Anerley. " 

"Faith,  I  did  not,  Mr.  Vyze,  and  I'll  thank  you  not  to  bring 
me  into  this. " 

The  master-blackguard  turned  and  treated  the  deserter  to  a 
steady  look  of  the  malignest  hatred,  ending  with  a  menacing 
nod.  Turning  to  me,  he  said  in  the  same  queer,  constrained 
voice,  as  though  his  passion  tied  his  tongue,  "You  shall  meet 
me  to-morrow  —  to-day,  that  is.  My  friend  shall  be  here  in 
an  hour  or  less.  Dawnay,  you  act  for  him  ?  'Twill  be  Worm- 
wood Scrubs,  I  take  it;  so  warn  your  grooms.  Mind,  I  shall 
expect  your  friend's  indebtedness  put  into  a  legal  form  and  into 
my  hands  before  I  kill  him.  You  take  me  ?" 

He  wheeled  upon  me  suddenly.  "And  now,  my  Suffolk 
bumpkin,  my  clothing!  'Tis  not  our  custom  to  steal  the  coats 
off  the  back  of  the  gentleman  who  has  won  our  money!" 

I  wavered.  Not  so  Bob,  who  passed  to  the  front  and  took 
command.  "Sit  tight,  Doodles!  .  .  .  Mr.  Vyze,  you  go  too 
fast!"  said  he,  looking  the  man  steadily  in  the  face  and  not 
liking  what  he  saw.  "I  am  not  so  sure  that  we  can  meet  you. 
In  fact,  I  am  sure  we  cannot.  He  swears  to  three  dice  upon  the 
table  and  on  the  floor.  I  didn't  see  three,  I  own,  but  your  con- 
duct and  attitude  were  colourable.  You  did  wrong  to  throw 
yourself  down  as  you  did;  very  wrong,  sir.  If  innocent,  you 
could  have  slept  back  and  convinced  us.  Whilst  as  to  that  fourth 
die,  ye'll  find  no  one  in  London  to  believe  your  story.  Fanshawe 
knows  nothing  of  play,  as  any  fool  can  see;  you  have  said  as 
much  yourself.  To  say,  he  tore  your  waistcoat  off  to  put  a 
cogged  die  where  your  hand  has  been  half  the  night,  is  too 
thin,  sir.  Keep  your  paws  down,  if  you  please;  I've  no  wish 
to  strike  ye!" 

[281] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

"I've  not  asked  for  your  opinion,  Mr.  Dawnay.  My  char- 
acter don't  depend  upon  the  words  of  a  brace  of  bullies,  a  cal- 
low subaltern  and  his  booby  confederate,  who  owe  me  more  than 
they  can  afford  to  pay!  I  demand  my  property.  You  don't  ex- 
pect me  to  walk  the  street  in  tatters. " 

"Sorry  for  your  feelings,  but  we  keep  the  cloth.  That  and 
the  die  —  sawn  across  —  will  be  shown  at  White's  before 
you  are  an  hour  older. " 

The  man's  face  worked  horribly,  unconsciously;  he  was 
no  coward,  far  from  it  indeed,  and  had  made  his  mark  with 
small-sword  and  hair-trigger  a  dozen  times  at  least,  for  such  a 
position  as  his  was  not  conceded  to  a  nameless  adventurer  for 
the  mere  brazenly  pushing  in. 

Looking  us  each  between  the  eyes  in  turn,  he  plainly  weighed 
the  chances  of  a  tussle.  It  was  hopeless;  either  would  have 
been  his  overmatch;  Dawnay,  in  fact,  was  one  of  the  strongest 
men  in  town.  His  eye  blinked;  all  he  lived  for,  aye,  and  life 
itself,  had  he  known  it,  was  slipping  from  him.  A  shudder  shook 
him;  he  gulped  and  caught  something  in  a  bulging  cheek. 

"What  have  ye  in  your  mouth,  sir?  Out  with  it!"  cried 
Bob,  and  gript  him.  There  was  no  reply.  They  hung  together, 
battling,  their  elbows  and  shoulders  at  work,  reeled  back  into 
the  dining-table,  cannoned  off  through  tumbling  chairs,  Vyze, 
still  mute,  wrestling  desperately,  Dawnay  fiercely  vociferous. 
"Doodles!  Doodles,  I  say!  Hold  his  hands,  keep  them  from 
his  mouth!" 

I  sprang  to  his  help;  it  was  needless;  our  enemy,  gurgling 
inarticulately,  was  fighting  indeed,  but  fighting  —  for  air!  — 
eyes  and  tongue  were  protruding  from  a  blackening  face. 
Dawnay,  suddenly  aware,  and  inexpressibly  shocked,  released 
his  arms,  the  man's  knees  bent  under  him,  he  sunk  to  the  carpet 
clutching  at  his  throat,  writhing  silently  and  horribly,  choking 
to  death! 

{282] 


CHAPTER  THIRTr-ONE 


"He  has  swallowed  it!"  shrieked  Anerley;  "it  sticks  in 
his  windpipe!" 

What  we  could  do  was  done,  and  done  in  vain.  At  the  end 
of  three  endless  minutes  all  was  over;  the  great  prone  bulk 
lay  there  warm,  and  quiet,  and  dead! 

I  had  never  seen  a  man  die  before;  the  sight  shook  me. 
Dawnay  straightened  himself  and  gript  my  arm.  I  felt  his  hand 
quiver,  and  looking  into  his  fine,  strong  face,  and  seeing  the 
nostrils  pulsate  and  a  ring  of  white  around  the  grey  of  his 
eye,  felt  it  was  time  to  rally  my  manhood. 

Behind  the  screen  Anerley  was  pouring  himself  glass  after 
glass  of  spirit,  spilling  three-fourths,  whimpering  and  calling 
upon  his  Maker. 

I  stept  to  the  door;  Sims  and  Vokes,  eavesdropping  at  the  key- 
hole, were  kicked  downstairs  for  a  doctor,  and  returned  in  a 
marvellous  short  time  with  a  strange  little  figure  in  night- 
cap, bed-gown  and  slippers,  to  whom  Dawnay  gave  his  hand  and 
addressed  as  Sir  Ephraim.  This  was  Gibb,  the  King's  surgeon, 
whose  house  was  in  the  street,  the  first  man  in  his  profession, 
but  helpless  at  that  hour  as  a  barber's  apprentice,  and,  in  fact, 
from  whatever  cause,  neither  himself  nor  in  a  condition  to 
practice. 

So,  ho!  An  apoplexy,  evidently! "hiccups  he,  "S  —  silence, 
if  you  please,  gentlemen,  or  —  or  leave  the  room.  What  a 
devil  did  ye  call  me  in  for  if  ye  understood  the  case  ?  A  basin, 
there,  one  of  you!  Towels,  salts,  and  quick  about  it!" 

We  flew,  and  on  returning  found  the  surgeon  had  ripped  the 
sleeves,  and  having  opened  the  veins  of  both  arms  was  cursing 
the  inadequacy  of  the  result. 

At  this  moment  a  carriage  drew  up  without,  and  a  spare,  dry 
personage,  primly  drest,  entered  swiftly  and  unannounced,  his 
lean,  vivid  features  looking  alertly  from  beneath  a  little  close 
white  wig.  This,  though  I  knew  it  not  at  the  moment,  was 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITr 

Dr.  John  Lettsom,  the  eminent  Quaker  physician,  waylaid  by 
one  of  our  messengers  whilst  returning  from  a  consultation. 

He  spoke  no  word,  but  noting  the  symptoms  made  prompt 
diagnosis,  and  snatching  up  the  other's  lancet,  was  for  instant 
action, 

"Sir!"  squealed  the  startled  surgeon,  "what  do  ye  here? 
'Tis  my  patient!" 

"The  worse  for  him  and  thyself,  friend  Gibb,  for  thou 
hast  killed  him,  or  as  near  as  may  be!  Permit  me." 

"No,  Lettsom,  I  will  not  permit  ye,  sir.  I  defy  ye  to  use 
the  lancet.  'Tis  unprofessional  for  you  to  interfere;  'tis  illegal 
for  you  to  operate;  puncture  the  epidermis,  and  I  notify  ye  to 
my  college  and  to  your  own!" 

"I  accept  the  risk.  Stand  aside!"  He  dropt  upon  his 
knees,  slit  the  windpipe,  inserted  a  finger  and  —  recovered 
the  die! 

"Be  damned  to  ye,  sir!  I'll  report  ye!"  gobbled  the  surgeon 
purpling. 

"And  publish  thy  own  incapacity?  Tush,  man!  sink  thy 
pettiness  and  lend  me  what  skill  thou  hast;  there  is  just  a 
chance!" 

With  our  help  the  doctors  rolled  the  body  from  face  to 
side,  and  side  to  face,  working  the  arm  in  the  vain  hope  of 
restoring  respiration.  There  was  no  response,  and  after  a 
few  minutes  the  truth  was  manifest  alike  to  faculty  and  laity. 
We  arose  from  out  knees  breathless,  and  stood  regarding  the 
corpse  as  it  lay  upon  its  face  and  left  side.  The  rich  coat  was 
ripped  from  collar  to  cuff.  The  waistcoat  within  had  so  suffered 
at  my  hands  that  the  right  side  of  it  was  gone;  the  shirt, 
opened  at  throat  and  breast,  had  slipt  back,  disarranged  by 
our  efforts,  the  white  brawn  of  a  massive  shoulder  lay  ex- 
posed, and  upon  this,  beneath  our  eyes,  a  large  triangular  scar 
was  coming  out  more  bluely  every  moment.  The  thing  outfaced 

[284] 


CHAPTER  THIRTr-ONE 


us,  there  was  no  blinking  or  mistaking  its  significance:  it  was 
the  V-brand  of  the  French  bagne.1  Somewhere  and  at  some  time 
this  gorgeous  adventurer,  this  playmate  of  royal  dukes,  this 
patron  of  lesser  nobles,  this  arbiter  of  fashion,  had  tugged 
at  the  oar  with  slaves! 

It  was  evident  that  neither  of  these  great  practitioners 
relished  the  prospect  of  the  inquest.  Both  declined  refresh- 
ments. % 

"I  could  wish  young  gentlemen  honester  employment  and 
better  company,"  remarked  the  King's  surgeon  severely,  viewing 
the  broken  chairs  and  tumbled  dice-boxes. 

"Amen!"  said  the  other. 

Says  Dawnay,  "Sir  Ephraim,  and  you,  doctor,  I  thank  you 
for  that  sentiment;  you  speak  sense  and  I'll  lay  it  to  heart. 
D'ye  know  this  —  person  ?  'Tis  Mr.  Horatio  Vyze. " 

" God  bless  my  soul,  so  it  is!"  cried  Gibb. 

"And  this  die  that  killed  him,"  said  Bob,  "was  a  cogged  die, 
a  die  he  was  trying  to  swallow.  You  will  be  pleased  to  take 
care  on't,  Dr.  Lettsom;  'twill  be  certainly  called  for  by  the 
coroner. " 

The  physician  nodded.  "And  whose  is  this?"  said  he,  lift- 
ing from  the  carpet  a  small  copper  token  attached  to  a  guard  of 
twisted  hair,  broken  doubtless  in  the  struggle.  It  was  passed 
from  hand  to  hand;  none  had  seen  it  before.  The  plait  was  of 
woman's  hair,  strong  and  dark,  such  a  keepsake  as  a  girl  gives 
to  her  bed-fellow  on  leaving  her  convent. 

Lettsom  (  whom  I  afterwards  heard  commended  as  a  mine 
of  curious  information  )  opined  that  the  medal  denoted  minor 
orders  in  some  Italian  rule.  Sir  Ephraim  took  snuff  and  ex- 
pressed no  opinion.  From  the  manner  in  which  they  regarded 
one  another  it  was  plain  both  men  were  well  apprised  of  the 
gravity  of  the  affair,and  of  its  importance  in  the  eyes  of  the  town. 

1  Signifying  voleur  —  a  thief. —  G.  F. 

[285] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITr 

With  their  help  we  lifted  the  corpse  to  the  table.  There  we 
laid  him  and  looked  with  revulsion  upon  that  distorted  coun- 
tenance, as  of  a  felon  who  had  died  under  the  question. 

There  was  much  one  could  have  asked  but  none  to  answer. 

"Cover  that  face, "  said  Lettsom. 

"And  lock  the  room,"  added  Gibb. 

The  pair  then  left  the  house  in  complete  amity,  calling  in,  as 
I  think,  at  Sir  Ephraim's.  As  between  'em  'twas  a  case  of  stale 
mate,  said  Dawnay,  and  would  be  forgotten  over  a  bottle, 
for  the  Quaker,  tho'  hot,  said  he  (  as  a  Creole  had  a  right  to 
be ),  was  chivalrous  and  placable,  and  in  short  an  excellent 
fellow. ' 

Anerley  had  disappeared,  fading  off  the  scene,  pitifully 
unnerved. 

My  brother  remained,  snoring  resolutely,  not  to  be  aroused, 
his  head  still  garlanded  with  the  roses  placed  there  by  hands 
now  stiffening.  Him  we  bore,  chair  and  all  to  his  chamber,  sum- 
moned Yokes,  the  awed  and  self-conscious  accomplice,  and 
left  the  house. 

"Come  across  with  me  Doodles,  you  promised —  " 

"  'In  ten  minutes'  "  I  whispered.  "My  God,  what  a  catas- 
trophe!" 

"Deliverance,  rather,  eh  my  boy?  If  ever  I  saw  a  win  on 
the  post,  begad,  'twas  this!  'Twas  the  beaten  cock  landing 
the  fight  with  his  last  kick.  But  brace  yourself,  we  have  much 
to  get  through.  What  say  you  to  our  putting  the  whole  thing 
down  in  writing  whilst  'tis  fresh  in  our  minds  ?  You  have  that 
pocket  and  the  die  ?  Lettsom  has  the  fellow  to't.  Good!  let  me 
look  at  the  stuff.  This  is  vastly  heavy  wear  for  June,  Doodles; 
why,  here's  something  sewn  into  the  lining  —  what  d'ye  say  ? " 
He  ripped  and  drew  a  long  packet  of  stamped  papers. 

*A  friend  of  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  Dr.  Samuel  Johnson  and  other  literary 
persons.  —  ED». 

[286] 


CHAPTER  THIRTr-ONE 


"Bills,  begad!  enormous  amounts!  but  whose  name  is  across 
'em  ?  .  Blakenham's  !  !  " 

We  were  seated  at  a  table  in  Bob's  own  chamber,  the  great 
house  around  us  quiet  as  the  grave  and  light  as  noon  with  the 
cool  white  sunshine  of  a  midsummer's  morning.  We  looked  at 
one  another,  haggard  enough  I  doubt  not,  but  with  a  sort  of 
amazed,  incredulous  delight,  too. 

"Stop!  I'll  cast 'em  up  ...  Faith,  you  must  help  me; 
I'm  good  at  such  a  string  of  oughts.  But  I  make  it  a 
hundred  and  ninety-six  thou.  Is't  possible  ?  No  wonder  the 
poor  little  fool  came  to  heel  like  a  whipt  lap-dog.  Did  ye 
know  of  this  ?" 

I  nodded,  feeling  slightly  light-headed  and  doubtful  whether 
I  would  laugh  or  cry. 

"He  was  in  up  to  the  withers,  and  you  were  tryin'  to  lug 
him  out  —  and  —  you've  done  it!  "He  sat  back  in  his  chair 
regarding  me,  finger  on  lip.  "Good  old  Doodles!  Never  again 
will  I  trust  appearances  —  as  long  as  I  live  !  Amen!" 

He  had  opened  a  pen-knife  and  was  cutting  the  signatures 
from  the  bills.  "Don't  touch  'em,  boy,  this  shall  be  my  job. 
The  dice  will  speak  for  themselves,  but  we  needn't  publish 
this  little  postscript,  I  think;  it's  just  between  you  and  me  and 
your  brother  —  when  he's  sober  enough  to  understand  his  luck. 
And  now  we  must  put  in  an  hour  or  two  of  sleep.  Is  there  any- 
thing more  to  do?" 

"This,"  said  I,  and  knelt;  my  companion,  after  a  moment's 
hesitation,  kneeling  beside  me. 

When  we  arose  he  regarded  me  with  changed  eyes,  asking 
almost  under  his  breath:  "Where  did  you  get  this,  Fanshawe? 
You  are  no  Methodist  ? " 

"I  am  not.  I  have  been  seeing  life,  Bob,  and  I  find  this 
wears." 

He  bit  upon  the  idea  for  a  minute;  revolving  no  doubt 

[2871 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALirT 

what  he  had  said  when  upon  his  knees,  and  ever  his  eye  came 
back  to  mine  with  renewed  surprise. 

"Well,"  said  he  at  length,  and  I  fear  he  added  an  oath,  but 
'twas  the  effect  of  habit,  for  army  men  and  men  of  fashion 
in  that  day  swore  more  frequently  and  abominably  than  do 
bargemen  now,  "Well,  the  bones  are  what  I've  sworn  off: 
not  horses;  I  couldn't  manage  that.  One  thing  at  a  time! " 

"To  Whom  are  ye  speaking  ?"  said  I. 


[288] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A 

PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

CHAPTER  THIRTY-TWO 
THE    MARQUISE    WILLS    IT 


I  MUST  compress  three  crowded  months  into  as  many 
pages,  and  leave  to  my  young  relatives'  imaginations  the 
inquest,  and  the  prodigious  sensation  which  it  aroused; 
the  arrest,  trial,  and  sentence  of  ex-Lieutenant  Ganthony,  and 
the  exposure,  flight,  and  capture  of  Cotter  with  his  master's 
money  upon  him. 

The  case  was  placed  in  the  hands  of  Sir  Barnes  Phipps, 
who  promptly  laid  Mr.  Vokes  and  the  Rev.  Byng  Anerley  by  the 
heels,  not  that  he  had  much  against  them,  but  for  the  sake 
of  their  testimonies  against  others.  This,  though  very  reluc- 
tantly, they  gave,  for  the  Habeas  Corpus  Act  had  been  suspend- 
ed since  January,  and  once  inside  Holloway  Jail  they  saw  no 
way  out  save  through  the  gate  of  King's  evidence. 

All  this  was,  or  seemed  at  the  time,  of  small  service  to  myself, 
svho  was  brought  very  publicly  to  the  notice  of  the  town 
and  exposed  to  the  reprobation  of  society. 

This  may  seem  unreasonable,  but  will  doubtless  jump  with 
^our  own  experiences,  past  or  prospective. 

It  lay  thus:  an  enormous  scandal  in  high  life  had  been 
exposed  to  the  remark  of  the  vulgar;  an  associate  and  friend 
of  the  nobility,  if  not  one  of  the  Prince's  friends,  had  been 
detected  cheating  at  play.  The  rogue  was  dead,  'twas  impossible 

[289] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

to  punish  him;  the  fashionable  world,  which  stomached  the 
esclandre  extremely  ill,  feeling  that  its  purity  needed  vindica- 
tion, and  that  someone  should  be  chastised,  cast  about  for 
scapegoats,  and  fell  upon  Blakenham  and  me. 

That  the  scandal  had  arisen  in  Fanshawe  House  was  reason 
sufficient  to  exclude  us  for  a  time  from  society;  but  there 
were  better  reasons,  to  wit,  my  brother's  notorious  indebted- 
ness (  which  in  some  manner  he  supported  and  continued  to 
support,  mysteriously  enough,  for  Bob  kept  counsel  and  none 
guessed  the  truth  ),  and  my  own  behaviour  as  testified  before 
the  coroner. 

"For  look  you,"  said  the  arbiters  of  morals  at  White's, 
"here  is  a  boy,  barely  of  age,  with  a  regimental  record  of 
the  worst,  comes  up  to  town  on  a  Thursday  and  claims  his  for- 
tune, and  on  the  Friday  night  is  not  only  dicing  for  two  hundred 
thousand  pounds  on  the  main,  but  spies  and  exposes  the  foul 
play  of  a  sharper  with  whom  we  have  gamed  for  three  years  past 
without  suspicion.  This  young  rake  ( they  agreed  )  must 
needs  be  the  most  finished  blackguard  in  Great  Britain!" 

Dawnay  stood  by  me  stoutly,  but  himself  was  under  a  cloud, 
due,  as  I  verily  believe,  to  the  jealousy  of  men  who  had  been 
rooked  of  the  man  who  had  not. 

All  this  was  fatal  to  my  hopes  of  reinstatement  in  the  army. 
Here  the  firmness  of  the  good  King  barred  the  way.  It  was 
in  vain  represented  that  having  left  the  regiment  months 
before  it  broke  at  Castlebar  I  could  not  fairly  be  held  re- 
sponsible for  that  misconduct.  "But  —  but — but,"  said 
His  Majesty,  "if —  if —  if —  the  man  didn't  run  away  during 
the  battle,  he  ran  away  before  the  battle,  which  is  worse!" 
Nor  could  further  representations  remove  this  unfortunate  im- 
pression from  the  Royal  breast;  and  so  rooted  was  the  prejudice 
against  me  at  headquarters,  that  during  the  ensuing  six 
years,  whilst  England  resembled  an  entrenched  camp,  and 

[290] 


CHAPTER  THIRTY -TWO 


Buonaparte's  invasion  was  imminent,  my  offers  of  service  were 
constantly  rejected,  nor  was  I  permitted  to  raise  a  troop  of 
yeomanry  upon  my  own  estates. 

These  circumstances,  added  to  the  impossibility  of  being 
presented  at  Court,  afflicted  me  less  than  his  share  of  the 
punishment  did  my  brother.  To  have  lost  the  entree  of  Carl- 
ton  House  seemed  at  the  time  a  calamity.  Too  proud  to  beat 
upon  doors  that  were  closed  to  him,  or  to  proclaim  his  innocence 
to  ears  that  were  well  aware  of  it,  he  retired  to  Suffolk,  whither 
I  accompanied  him  upon  a  visit,  and  did  what  I  might  to  in- 
terest him  in  his  own  affairs,  and  —  ( with  infinite  benefit 
to  his  health,  spirits  and  appearance  )  in  the  management 
of  his  estate. 

It  was  at  this  time  that  my  faithful  Hymus  re-entered  my 
service,  in  which  he  has  continued  until  now.  Mandeville, 
I  will  say,  treated  me  well  in  this,  expressing  no  chagrin 
at  finding  that  his  man  preferred,  as  he  said,  to  ride  be- 
hind his  old  captain  for  love  rather  than  to  serve  the  best  mas- 
ter in  Holderness  for  a  groom's  wages. 

Nor  did  I  find  the  time  hang  heavy  on  my  hands;  that  coun- 
try being  pleasant,  to  me  at  least,  all  the  year  round,  and  never 
pleasanter  than  when  the  slow  stream  is  decked  with  lily-pads 
and  studded  with  knops  of  buds,  whilst  the  sedgy  banks  stand 
crested  with  pink  bunches  of  the  flowering  rush  and  quaint 
pale  arrow-head. 

I  had  been  down-stream  on  a  morning  early  to  get  roots 
of  the  Golden  Star  of  Bethlehem,  or  gage-flower,  which 
blooms  half-way  between  Bramford  and  Sproughton  Church, 
for  I  was  minded  to  send  them  to  my  little  mistress. 

My  plants  being  packed  in  moss,  I  had  put  on  a  worm  and 
was  trying  for  perch  beneath  the  willows  near  the  weir,  when 
the  stately  rustle  of  skirts  trailed  over  grass  reached  me. 
Glancing  round  I  saw  a  lady  approaching,  whom  I  recognized 

[291] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

as  the  Marquise  de  la  Rochemesnil.  Now  for  this  person  I  had 
from  my  school-days  entertained  a  distant  and  awe-stricken 
admiration,  and,  as  I  have  already  hinted,  my  brother  had  laid 
hopeless  siege  to  her  since  he  was  nineteen. 

The  lady  was  fortunate  in  having  accompanied  her  father, 
the  late  marquis,  from  France  at  the  first  beginning  of  the 
troubles.  Her  estate  was  invested  in  the  British  Funds,  and 
more  than  sufficed  for  her  needs  and  charities.  She  was  be- 
lieved to  have  norelatives,  and  being  nownear  seven-and-twenty, 
and  having  lived  the  last  eleven  years  of  her  life  in  Britain, 
might  be  supposed  to  be  more  English  than  French.  Yet  her 
speech  was  touched  with  foreign  idioms  and  an  occasional  hesi- 
tation for  the  word,  as  of  one  who  still  thought  in  her  native 
tongue,  whilst  to  the  eye  of  even  such  a  blockhead  as  I  there 
was  not  an  English  bone  in  her  body.  In  grace  of  pose  and  of 
movement,  in  choice  of  dress  and  colours,  she  was  alien  still. 

My  father  had  known  and  befriended  hers  upon  his  first 
coming:  my  mother  had  ever  been  the  kindest  of  counsellors 
to  the  motherless  young  foreigner.  We  had  seen  much  of  her 
at  the  Hall,  and  I,  looking  back  to  my  tenth  year,  could  never 
remember  her  otherwise  than  as  a  tall  and  handsome  woman 
who  commanded  the  respect  and  submission  of  every  man  who 
entered  her  presence,  and  who,  having  never  seemed  exactly 
young,  appeared  to  grow  no  older. 

Laying  down  my  rod  and  whipping  off  my  hat  I  went  to  meet 
her  with  a  sense  of  pleasure  at  the  renewing  of  old  friendship, 
for  this  was  our  first  meeting  for  eighteen  months,  the 
marquise  having  been  from  home  since  our  leaving  Clarges 
Street. 

The  little  croft  we  were  in  was  got  green  again  since  the 
carrying  of  the  hay,  and  being  next  theGipping,  and  bordered 
with  a  row  of  pollards,  was  both  cool  and  shady.  Mademoiselle 
Lucille  came  slowly  towards  me,  bidding  me  cover  with  the 

[292] 


CHAPTER  THIRrr-TWO 


kindest  voice,  and  I  noticed  that  although  pale  and  grave,  her 
face  was  both  softer  and  kinder  than  I  remembered  it. 

After  some  compliments  upon  my  health  and  travels,  of 
which  she  had  heard  what  I  had  chosen  should  be  known,  the 
lady  came  straight  to  the  point  with  a  frankness  which 
astonished  me  whilst  commanding  my  admiration. 

"Mr.  George,  milord  your  brother  has  the  name  for  being 
sadly  embarrassed.  No  —  do  not  interrupt  me,  or  deny.  I 
have  heard  what  I  have  heard.  Of  his  connections  with  the 
person  Vyze  I  have  long  disapproved  —  I  have  deplored;  but  he 
was  not  to  be  counselled. " 

She  nodded  emphatically. 

"But  that  is  over,  marquise,"  said  I,  "the  man  has  passed 
to  his  account." 

"  So  I  have  heard,  my  friend;  may  God  rest  his  soul. " 

She  lowered  and  closed  her  parasol.  The  fleeting  restless 
shade  of  the  willows  let  flakes  of  sunshine  pass  and  return 
across  her  fine,  grave  face.  "He  was  my  husband." 

This  confidence  struck  me  dumb.  I  could  only  peruse  the 
lady's  countenance  with  a  new  consciousness  of  its  beauties; 
the  firm  round  chin,  the  well-moulded  mouth  with  the  pencil- 
ling of  its  proud  upper  lip,  the  level  brows  and  brown,  com- 
pelling eyes. 

And  to  think  that  these  had  once  been  won  and  owned  by 
that  lewd  ruffian! 

The  thought  plucked  at  my  very  heart-strings. 

We  stood  mute  and  motionless  so  long  that  a  redstart 
flashed  down  to  the  grass  for  a  fly  and  returned  to  his  twig. 
The  intrusion  vexed  me.  "Marquise!"  I  gasped,  hardly  above  a 
whisper,  for  why  should  the  birds  and  trees  know  her  piteous 
history  ?  "Why  tell  me  this  ?  What  shall  I  say  ?  What  can  I  do  ?" 

"Nothing,  my  friend,  nothing;  we  cannot  undo  the  past; 
I  do  not  come  to  you  for  sympathy,  for  condolences,  no;  nor  to 

[293] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITT 

distress  your  good  heart,  for  you  are  distressed  —  needlessly, 
too,  as  you  shall  see,  when  you  have  heard  all.  Yes,  the  past 
is  done  with;  you  yourself  closed  that  book  for  me,  as  I  hear." 
She  looked  up  at  me,  my  great  arms  and  shoulders,  her  eyes 
momentarily  leaving  my  face  to  pass  over  my  frame  with  the 
faintest  of  feminine  tremors,  "Yes,  Mr.  George,  under  the  good 
God  I  believe  I  owe  you  much  already,  and  so,  come  to  you  for 
more  —  in  the  present,  this  time. 

"The  man  that  is  dead  was  an  adventurer,  a  seminary  priest 
of  the  college  at  Douay,  Pierce  Butler,  by  name,  who  broke 
park,  as  you  say.  He  stole  me,  a  girl  in  my  nonage,  from  my 
convent  at  Laon.  He  married  me  at  Reims  the  same  day,  and 
was  arrested  as  we  left  the  church.  He  had  already  sold  my 
jewels.  He  was  sent  to  the  galleys. 

"I  returned  to  the  Sisters  until  my  father  removed  with  me  hither. 

"The  marriage  was  illegal  and  null:  it  might  no  doubt,  have 
been  set  aside,  but  monsieur  my  father  decided  otherwise, 
it  being  known  to  so  few,  and  these  almost  immediately  dis- 
persed by  the  troubles  then  beginning"  (  her  hands  gracefully 
illustrated  the  confusion  of  the  time  and  the  dispersal  of  those 
witnesses  ).  "Also  monsieur  was  proud;  there  was  the  name 
to  be  considered:  it  seemed  better  to  dispose  of  the  residue 
of  the  estate  ( most  had  been  sold  years  before  ),  whilst  dis- 
posal was  still  possible,  and  to  make  the  fresh  start.  The  rest 
you  know.  The  case  might  have  been  worse. " 

"Far  worse,  madame;  yet  permit  me  to  assure  you  of  my 
deepest  sympathy.  Did  the  fellow  ever  trouble  you  ?" 

"He  had  money  from  me  at  times;  I  could  afford  it:  but 
'twas  no  affaire  de  chantage:  I  had  the  whip  hand,  he  was  al- 
ways in  my  power,  and  knew  it. " 

As  she  said  this  she  looked  the  finest  and  most  self-reliant 
of  creatures :  no  man,  not  even  Vyze,  could  have  broken  her. 
How  he  must  have  feared  her!  I  conceived  him  sneaking  down 

[294] 


CHAPTER  THIRTY -TWO 


to  her  retreat  for  succour  after  runs  of  ill-luck,  could  recall, 
too,  old  tales  of  our  servants'  hall,  the  nods  and  becks  of  maids 
and  grooms. 

"  But  he  is  dead,  Mr.  George,  and  your  brother  is  in  trouble. 
He  is  still  my  faithful  cavalier,  as  I  think.  He  would  not  change. 
Now,  my  friend,  I  desire  you  to  tell  him  exactly  what  I  have 
told  you,  and  that  the  impediment  is  removed. " 

It  was  evident  that  no  suspicion  had  crossed  her  mind  of  the 
perfection  and  finality  of  her  lover's  ruin.  He,  as  she  supposed, 
at  his  last  guinea,  broken  in  health,  in  repute  and  fortune,  she 
came  with  her  splendid  person,  ability,  and  ample  means,  to 
place  all  at  his  disposal. 

I  suppose  I  looked  my  wonder. 

"Do  not  be  hard  upon  poor  Mowbray,  my  friend;  you  have 
suffered  from  all  accounts  and,  I  hope,  and  can  well  believe,  as 
I  look  upon  you,  that  you  have  grown  wise.  So  will  he,  for  he  is 
a  gentleman  and  no  canaille;  he  too,  a  little  late  peutetre;  apres 
coup  Bourguignon  est  sage;  but  that  is  his  affair  —  and  mine. 
Tell  him  Lucille  de  la  Rochemesnil  will  receive  him.  Adieu!" 

She  extended  her  hand  in  dismissal  as  a  queen  to  one  of 
her  servants.  I  bent  and  kissed  it. 

It  fell  exactly  as  she  willed.  She  took  him,  married  him, 
and  made  as  near  a  man  of  him  as  he  was  built  to  be;  governing 
him  wisely  until  the  day  of  her  death.  Nor  did  your  grand- 
father long  outlive  her. 

None  of  you  remember  her;  you  must  study  the  great  Romney 
in  the  oak  dining-room  at  Bramford  if  you  would  see  how  she 
looked  in  her  prime.  You  have  all  of  you  more  of  your  grand- 
mother than  you  know;  the  Fanshawes  are  now  dark  men  with 
brown  eyes,  her  eyes  and  complexion,  and  a  certain  repose  and 
hardness  which  I  observe  in  you  are,  I  think,  recent  grafts  upon 
our  stock.  She  was  a  remarkable  woman,  and  by  her  fortune 
and  ability  restored  our  house. 

[295] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A 

PERSON  OF  QUALITY 


CHAPTER  THIRTY-THREE 
A  COMEDY  OF  ERRORS 


IT  was  at  the  closing-in  of  a  wet  October  evening  that  I 
rode  under  the  court-yard  archway  of  the  Jack  of  New- 
bury  at  Great  Bedwyn. 

During  the  two  months  since  my  brother's  wedding  —  (a 
very  quiet  affair  )  —  I  had  been  almost  daily  in  the  saddle. 
My  desire  had  been  to  see  my  estates  and  make  acquaintance 
with  my  tenantries  in  their  homes,  and  not  in  the  formal  and 
festive  way  of  rent-ales,  where  fulsome  compliments  are  ac- 
knowledged by  uncandid  speech  and  no  common  understanding 
is  to  be  gained. 

Personal  talks  between  man  and  man  upon  the  lands  which 
yielded  a  livelihood  to  both  had  seemed  a  pleasanter  and  more 
promising  method. 

Milton  I  had  seen  again,  finding  my  good  friends  as  kind, 
but  no  kinder,  to  George  Fanshawe  in  broad-cloth  than  they 
had  been  to  him  in  fustian. 

Abel's  pleasure  was  as  evident  as  that  ail-but  tongue-tied  man 
could  evince.  He  had  me  up  and  down  the  box-walk  hearing  all  I 
could  tell  him  of  my  new  prosperity  and  my  schemes  for  the  im- 
provement of  my  people,  taking  it  all  in  with  tight  lips  and  absorb- 
ent eyes,  approving,  insatiate  of  hearing  my  news,  but  —  as  if 
by  some  natural  defect  —  unable  to  give  me  of  his  own. 

[296] 


CHAPTER  THIRTT-THREE 


"And  now  'tis  your  turn,"  I  said  at  length;  "tell  me  how 
goes  the  world  with  you. " 

"The  mill —  "  he  began  after  his  usual  considering  pause, 
for  he  seldom  broke  silence  in  haste. 

"Never  mind  the  business;  'tis  yourself  I  want  to  hear 
about." 

"  My  father,  as  thou  sees  —  " 

"Is  admirably  well,  yes;  and  Mrs.  Ellwood's  walking  powers 
increase,  which  is  also  admirable;  and  Miss  Phoebe  speaks  for 
herself  —  cannot  you  ? " 

"Me  ?  Oh,  I  am  much  as  usual,  George,  I  thank  thee. " 

"Which  tells  me  nothing.  Now,  Abel,  I  am  for  close  quarters 
for  once.  This  load,  can  I  help  lift  it  ?" 

He  stiffened,  and  was  once  more  the  cold,  self-contained  man 
concealing  some  inward  wound  beneath  his  armour.  I  waited. 

He  had  long  carried  himself — how  shall  I  say?  as  a  man 
does  who  knows  he  is  stricken  by  some  grim  internal  disorder 
which  grows  and  worsens  and  will  some  day  need  the  knife. 

Such  an  one,  if  a  brave,  good  fellow,  sees  no  wisdom  in 
whining,  or  in  asking  the  sympathy  of  others,  but  goes  steadily 
on  with  his  business,  something  the  sterner  and  the  keener, 
perhaps,  because  of  that  imminent  audit. 

So,  I  say,  my  friend's  bearing  seems  to  me,  looking  back 
upon  him  across  the  years,  for  at  the  time  I  had  no  experience 
of  such  an  illness  as  this  to  which  I  have  likened  his  trouble. 

"I  thank  thee,  no.  Thou  canst  not  help  me.  No  one  can." 

"Save  God?"  I  whispered. 

"Save  God,"  he  assented;  "I  must  carry  my  burden  alone, 
George. " 

"But  if  ever  I  can  help  you,  will  you  use  me  ?"  I  demanded. 
He  pressed  my  arm  and  nodded.  The  economy  of  words  meant 
nothing;  the  look  everything.  I  was  content. 

And  with  that  came  light-running  feet  and  my  little  mis- 

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MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITT 

tress  was  upon  us  with  sweet,  half-breathless  laughter,  and 
would  take  me  to  her  own  water-garden  below  the  mill  to  shew 
me  the  rush-plants  I  had  sent,  and  the  dryer  grassy  spot  where 
my  Gageas  were  set.  "O,  it  is  like  old  times  to  have  thee  safe 
back  again,  George!  It  is  as  when  I  was  quite  little,  and  Sam 
and  Abel  were  boys,  before  they  went  to  Ackworth  and  all 
the  trouble  came.  If  only  he  could  come  back  too,  and  Abel 
be  merry  again!" 

Sam  ?  who  was  Sam  ?  I  wondered;  new  thoughts  spinning 
in  my  thick  head.  She  had  begun  to  me,  but  ended  to  herself 
in  a  lower  key,  unconscious  that  she  was  thinking  aloud,  for 
she  was  a  lonely  child  among  elders,  and,  as  children  will, 
acted  the  life  of  her  phantasy  when  alone,  conversing  much 
to  herself  aloud. 

The  cloud  was  quick  in  its  passage;  childlike,  her  spirits 
heightened  at  sight  of  some  outward  object  bringing  sunny 
memories. 

"See,  George!  there  goes  a  kingfisher!  What  a  shrill  note! 
It  has  settled  on  the  willow  by  the  sluices. " 

She  would  shew  me  the  hole  running  up  into  the  overhanging 
bank  whence  the  brood  had  flown  three  months  before. 

"We  found  them  the  day  after  thou  left.  They  were  full- 
feathered;  the  oddest  little  blue  things  with  stumpy  tails. 
No,  not  so  bright  as  the  mother-bird,  and  ravenous  for  minnows 
and  loach.  After  they  left  the  hole  they  would  sit  seven  in  a 
row  on  the  rail  and  squeak  for  food  all  day ! " 

She  had  been  upon  her  knees  peering  over  the  brink,  the 
brown  water  spinning  below;  now  she  half  arose,  supported  on  a 
knee  and  a  hand,  looking  up  at  me,  the  freest,  gracefullest 
young  figure,  wholly  unconscious  of  its  grace.  The  child  was 
looking  charmingly  well,  the  summer  heats  had  touched  her 
chin  and  cheeks  with  a  most  delicate  golden  brown,  and  flecked 
them  lightly  here  and  there  with  the  tiny  freckles  that  would 

[298] 


CHAPTER  THIRTT-THREE 


go  before  winter.  Her  eyes  were  starry,  as  alive  as  a  woman's, 
and  as  unconscious  of  sex  as  a  five-year-old  child's,  and  be- 
tween them  her  small  nose  stood  smooth  as  a  fresh-laid  robin's 
egg  when  the  yolk  within  flushes  pink  through  the  thin  shell.1 

My  own  eyes  fell.  My  God !  I  dared  not  look  upon  her  longer. 
What  was  I,  a  lumbering  brute  with  a  brute's  instincts  and 
weaknesses,  to  aspire  to  such  holiness  ? 

Yet  her  innocent  delight  in  my  company  filled  me  with 
a  fluttered  pleasure.  "She  is  but  a  child,"  thought  I,  "un- 
touched by  the  breath  of  passion.  It  were  cruel  to  disturb 
such  a  happy  morning  dream  before  the  hour  for  waking. 
Fifteen  she  is,  and  two-and-twenty  am  I;  surely  I  can  wait 
three,  or  it  may  be  four,  years  for  my  bud  to  unfold." 

And  with  that  I  remembered  the  Friends'  dislike  of  early 
marriages,  and  their  view  that  a  woman  should  have  turned 
twenty  before  her  wedding,  and  so,  taking  a  leaf  from  Abel's 
book,  I  said  nothing  of  my  hope  to  any,  but  locked  it  away 
softly  and  warmly  in  my  breast  until  the  right  hour  should 
strike. 

But  I  must  be  getting  back  again  to  the  Jack  at  Great  Bed- 
wyn,  where  I  see  I  started  this  chapter,  and  must  first  explain 
how  I  came  to  be  there.  It  was  this  way:  I  had  rid  south  from 
Cheshire  upon  a  sudden  resolve  to  see  my  Wiltshire  estate,  and 
had  turned  aside  to  the  inn  I  have  named,  a  hostel  of  no  great 
size  in  a  decayed  borough  upon  the  skirts  of  Savernake  Forest. 
I  had  ne'er  set  eyes  upon  the  place  before,  and  took  a  dislike 
to  it  at  first  sight.  If  you  know  the  house  you  will  be  wondering 
what  had  induced  me  to  submit  to  the  discomforts  of  an  inn 
of  its  class  when  one  of  the  best  upon  the  Bath  road  lay  but 
four  miles  farther  on.  The  fact  was  I  had  accepted  an  appoint- 
ment by  letter  to  meet  a  man  here  upon  the  following  morning. 

'The  egg  of  the  English  robin  is  not  blue,  as  is  ours,  but  of  a  delicate  flesh  tint 
overcast  with  specks  of  fawn  colour.  AMERICAN  EDITOR. 

[299] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

Whilst  travelling  I  was  selecting  mounts  for  the  approaching 
hunting  season,  and  was  finding  the  class  of  animal  I  required 
not  too  abundant.  Fifteen  stone  and  over  did  I  ride,  and  a 
half-bred  I  would  not  look  at:  hence,  when  a  letter  reached  me 
at  Bath  from  a  person  living  at  Lambourn  Woodlands,  offering 
a  horse  which  seemed  of  the  stamp  that  I  wanted,  I  had  fallen 
in  with  my  unknown  correspondent's  suggestion  to  meet  him 
at  Bedwyn  for  the  trial  he  offered. 

I  had  anticipated  a  dull  little  place:  to  my  surprise  the  house 
was  humming  like  a  hive,  a-shine  with  candles,  roaring  with 
songs  and  laughter;  something  by-ordinary  was  afoot. 

Tossing  my  rein  to  the  soberest  of  the  ostlers,  I  made  my 
way  through  the  yard-entry  to  the  bar.  A  bouncing,  red- 
cheeked  dame  with  side-curls  and  cap-strings  flying  ran  cack- 
ling round  a  corner  of  the  passage  into  my  arms,  chased  by  a 
jovial  gentleman  holding  an  empty  rummer.  The  pursuer 
sheered  off  in  humorous  confusion,  shutting  the  door  of  a 
private  room  upon  a  chorus  of  male  laughter,  which  was  echoed 
by  chambermaids  upon  the  landing  overhead. 

"Heyday,  madam!"  I  cried,  "Is  it  another  victory?  And 
where  were  the  French  ?  and  have  ye  run  short  of  laurels  ? " 

"La!  Mr.  George,  sir,  how  ye  made  me  jump!  Really,  sir, 
Bevington  is  too  free  entirely.  If  he  don't  mend  I  declare 
I'll  forbid  him  my  house,  I  will;  for  a  lone  widow  woman  must 
protect  her  character.  But,  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir!  Mr. 
George,  did  I  say  ?  —  whom  am  I  speaking  to  ?" 

"Yes,  ma'am,  you  have  made  a  good  guess;  George  is  my 
name,  George  Fanshawe.  Can  ye  put  me  up  for  the  night, 
madam,  myself,  two  servants,  and  four  horses  ?" 

She  let  my  question  pass,  looking  me  up  and  down  with  a 
face  of  puzzlement,  wherein  misconception  as  to  my  identity 
slowly  receded  before  the  fact.  Another  effort  seemed  needed 
to  satisfy  her  self-resoect. 

[3°°J 


CHAPTER  THIRTT-THREE 


"ButyearvMr.  Fanshawe,  sir,  surely?  I  mean  his  brother. 
There!  drat  it!  I  know  not  what  I  do  mean.  Well, well !"  and  with 
that  the  woman  fell  a-choking  and  excusing  herself.  It  seemed 
there  was  some  gentleman  of  my  name  already  in  the  house  who 
resembled  me  enough  to  justify  mistakes  between  the  lights. 

What  touched  me  more  closely  was  finding  that  my  name- 
sake and  his  party  had  taken  up  all  the  accommodation  the 
place  afforded,  whether  for  man  or  beast.  In  short  the  best 
terms  I  could  offer  only  procured  me  a  cupboard  for  myself 
and  a  stall  for  one  horse.  Hymus  with  the  dog-cart  and  spare 
nags  must  go  the  four  miles  farther  to  Hungerford,  where 
at  the  Bear  they  would  find  bait  and  lodging. 

Having  sent  my  valise  to  my  room  and  seen  my  men  off,  I 
sought  such  information  as  the  stablemen  might  be  able  to 
supply  as  to  my  unknown  correspondent  regarding  the  horse. 
This  was  little  enough,  for  most  were  strangers,  servants  of 
guests,  whilst  of  the  ostlers,  Bedwyn  born,  all  knew  Lambourn 
and  a  Mr.  Smith,  several  indeed  of  the  name,  but  which  Mr. 
Smith  it  would  be  was  a  question  I  got  little  light  upon.  J. 
was  the  initial  of  my  man's  Christian  name,  but  whether  this 
stood  for  John  Smith,  of  Rooksnest,  James,  of  Seven  Barrows, 
Jacob,  of  Lower  Cross,  or  Joseph,  of  Chilton  Foliat,  none  would 
undertake  to  say,  but  doubtless  the  morning  would  show. 

I  was  shown  to  my  room;  it  was  better  than  my  fears;  my 
landlady's  apologies  seemed  needless;  but  there,  as  you  shall 
presently  see,  my  gratulation  was  premature. 

The  smiling  maid  who  preceded  me,  candle  in  hand,  in  place 
of  retiring  bobbed  deferentially  at  the  door  with  something 
for  my  private  ear  which  the  racket  on  the  landing  outside 
momentarily  deterred  her  from  imparting.  Was  there  anything 
Mr.  Fanshawe  needed  ?  Nothing,  I  assured  her.  Upon  a  quick 
glance  down  the  corridor  she  closed  the  door  and  set  her  back 
to  it,  summoning  me  with  a  face  of  breathless  anxiety. 

[301] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUA LIT T 

"Dwont  'ee  go  for  to  put  your  top-bwoots  out,  zur;  I  dur- 
sen't  say  no  mwore!" 

I  stept  to  her  side.  She  held  her  ground,  was  not  joking,  was 
bent  indeed  on  warning  me  against  some  joke  of  a  too  practical 
nature  meditated  by  others.  Her  voice  was  hurried  and  low  — 
a  man  treading  heavily  paused  at  the  door  without.  "There, 
zur,"  she  whispered,  "I've  guv  ye  the  office;  I  can't  do  no 
mwore.  He's  a-listening!"  then  shrill  and  laughing.  "Lord,  zur, 
dwon't  zur,  I'll  tell  missus!"  she  whisked  from  the  room,  leaving 
the  door  wide. 

The  fellow  regarded  her  doubtfully,  affording  me  time  to 
force  a  smile  before  he  turned  to  me  with,  "Bwoots,  zur?" 
"Presently,  my  man,"  I  replied,  tipping  him  a  wink  and  a 
shilling,  with  which  he  stumbled  off  downstairs,  leaving  me 
amused  at  the  incident. 

But  it  was  an  hour  of  misconceptions.  A  rapping  upon  the 
door  presently  apprised  me  of  another  claimant  for  the  bed.  This 
was  the  body-servant  of  my  namesake,  and  since  it  appeared  I 
had  been  shown  to  a  chamber  bespoke  some  days  previously 
for  his  master,  I  had  no  choice  but  to  exchange  it  for  a  closet 
upon  an  upper  floor,  a  sort  of  Little-Ease,  in  which,  as  it  was  im- 
possible for  me  either  to  stand  erect  or  lie  at  length,  I  felt 
tempted  neither  to  linger  over  my  dressing  nor  to  retire  until 
too  weary  to  sit  longer  below. 

They  laid  for  me  in  a  corner  of  the  public  room  amid  ex- 
traordinary noise  and  bustle.  The  house  was  full  of  sports- 
men, some  of  whom  had  travelled  from  town  to  see  a  match 
against  time  to  be  ridden  on  the  morrow.  There  seemed  to  me 
two  parties,  or  cliques  of  them,  of  which  the  snobs  outnumbered 
the  gentlemen. 

Although  I  took  no  sort  of  interest  in  the  matter,  I  could  not 
avoid  hearing  something  of  what  was  afoot,  for  these  gentry 
took  themselves  and  their  business  very  much  for  granted,  and 

[302] 


CHAPTER  THIRTr-THREE 


names  flew,  my  own  among  others,  for  it  seemed  that  a  Fanshawe 
was  in  it,  and  deeply  in  it,  for  it  was  agreed  that  he  had  "put 
his  boots"  on  the  issue.  Nor  he  alone  (  whoever  he  might  be  ), 
but  Captain  this  and  Cornet  that  of  the  Household  were  men- 
tioned as  backers  for  serious  sums.  Growled  a  man  in  the  next 
box  to  mine:  "The  quality  has  plunged  on  this  leetle  gamble; 
if  the  quality  loses,  can  the  quality  meet  the  bill  ?  How  do  we 
stand,  I  wonder  ?  I've  big  Bob  Dawnay  upon  my  book  for  — " 
and  here  the  voice  dropt  to  a  whisper,  but  methought  I  had 
heard  the  name  of  an  old  friend  in  a  connection  which  did  him 
but  little  credit. 

What  puzzled  me  was  such  a  concourse  to  witness  the  start, 
the  finish  being  usually  held  the  better  station-  But  the  matter 
was  no  concern  of  mine  except  that  the  clatter  and  running 
about  of  distracted  drawers  and  maids  made  it  hard  for  me 
to  get  served,  dishes  ordered  by  others  being  laid  before  me 
and  vice  versa. 

Later  I  turned  out  to  see  to  the  bestowal  of  my  horse,  which 
I  found  in  a  detached  coach-house  converted  to  stabling 
for  the  nonce,  and  was  loosening  the  beast's  surcingle  to  straight- 
en a  shifted  rug,  working  by  touch,  for  the  place  was  in  dark- 
ness, when  two  persons  stept  inside  the  door  to  shelter  from 
the  weather.  Said  one: 

"Ye  sent  my  name  to  him  ?" 

" Why, yes,  Mr.  Sam—  " 

"Curse  your  'Sams';  how  often  am  I  to  tell  ye  ?" 

"Pardon,  humbly,  a'm  sure,  zur.  No,  he'll  not  see  ye. 
Twold  the  gal  a  knew  nothin'  about  ye.  Fact  is,  he's  dinin' 
wi'  some  on  'is  party,  and  be  a  bit  on  by  thick. " 

"Party?  what  party?" 

"Bless  yer  soul,  zur,  thick  house  be  bung  full  o'm;  vive-and- 
twanty  at  the  least,  and  ivery  Iwoose  box  and  stall  teaken  days 
agoo!  Thick  match  agin  time  as  he's  to  ride  to-morrow  be  a 

[303] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

big  thing;  there's  a  blame  sight  o'  money  on't.  'Tis  from  here 
to   Reading." 

The  listener  whistled  softly. 

"That'll  do.  ...  Well,  'night  to  ye.  I'm  off  back.  Ye 
saw  me  start  by  the  Ramsbury  Road;  mind  that!  Ye  take  me  ?" 

A  minute  later,  having  got  the  tongue  of  the  buckle  into 
the  right  hole  and  made  my  beast  as  secure  as  circumstances 
permitted,  I  was  taking  a  mouthful  of  fresh  air  in  the  village 
street  before  seeking  my  closet. 

The  rain  had  ceased,  but  it  was  wet  and  soft  under  foot,  for 
some  burgess  was  ill  and  tan  lay  across  the  road.  I  had  ceased 
to  expect  Mr.  J.  Smith,  who  had  neither  sent  nor  written  to 
the  house,  and  was  turning  again  towards  the  Jack  when  a 
horseman  came  from  under  the  archway.  Two  lighted  windows 
threw  ruddy  bars  across  the  dark  street.  As  he  passed  into  the 
first  my  heart  leapt,  for  here,  close  upon  me,  was  Abel  Ellwood! 
He  popped  into  the  darkness  again,  and  next  moment  was  again 
in  the  light  and  nearer,  shewing  me  my  mistake.  The  rider's 
size  and  build  and  form  of  countenance  bore  the  strongest  super- 
ficial resemblance  to  my  friend's;  but  there  the  likeness  stopt, 
lacking  the  nameless  touch  of  the  individuality  I  knew,  or 
stamped  with  its  own  and  alien  impress.  He  passed  me  closely, 
and  I,  myself  in  darkness,  saw  him  well,  thrown  upon  the 
black  background  of  the  night  by  the  strong  light,  and  felt 
sure  I  had  seen  him  before;  yet  only  when  he  had  become  a 
shapeless  bulk  in  the  gloom  did  I  recall  the  fighter  of  the  road- 
side battle  at  the  Barn  Inn,  and  that  other  —  or  the  same  — 
who  had  strolled  so  coolly  through  the  crowd  hurrying  to 
Ouseby  bull-ring. 

"This  Sam  Brown,  or  Jones,  or  Robinson,  or  whatever  the 
coachman  called  him,  travels  far  afield  to  sell  his  malt," 
said  I,  wondering  vaguely  at  having  run  against  the  man  for 
the  third  time. 

[304] 


CHAPTER  THIRTT-THREE 


By  this  time  the  stables  were  quieter  and  in  better  order; 
one  loose-box  in  special  might  have  been  a  condemned  cell  on 
the  night  before  execution,  so  closely  was  it  barred  and  so 
grimly  watched  by  cudgel-bearing  ostlers  seated  upon  up- 
turned buckets.  One  of  these  got  to  his  feet  at  my  approach, 
pulling  his  forelock  and  grinning,  "Why,  yes,  sir,"  said  he, 
"be  there  hanythink  —  ?"  and  then,  turning  suddenly  foolish, 
cursed  his  eyes  and  roughly  warned  me  off. 

If  the  yard  were  under  strict  rule  the  rest  of  the  house  owned 
none.  They  had  closed  the  bar,  but  quarrelling,  wagering, 
singing  and  horse-play  were  in  full  swing.  Men  were  bawling 
for  drink  who  had  drunk  well  already,  whilst  a  knot  of  cockney 
sportsmen  were  besetting  the  door  of  a  private  room  demanding 
admission,  or  that  at  the  least  someone  whom  they  called  "His 
Ludship"  should  make  them  a  speech. 

These  proposals  were  resisted  by  the  more  intimate  friends 
of  the  popular  hero  on  account  of  the  lateness  of  the  hour 
and  the  need  for  their  man  to  retire  at  once  in  view  of  his 
engagement.  Eventually,  I  believe,  the  door  was  forced,  for 
I  saw  a  tall  young  fellow,  well  advanced  in  liquor,  dragged 
hither  and  thither,  chaired  in  the  passages  and  toasted  with 
uproarious  good  fellowship. 

Every  corner  and  settle  was  occupied  by  cronies  disputing 
the  chances  of  the  morrow's  event.  "He'll  ne'er  do  it,  'tis 
a  welter  impost;  no  horse  ever  foaled  could  carry  the  weight!" 
"I  tell  'e  he  has  done  it,  and  what's  more  he  knows  the  road 
and  will  be  making  for  his  stable." 

Said  a  second  voice,  "We'll  have  a  safe  journey  back  to 
town.  As  I  changed  at  Reading  coming  down  they  were  saying 
that  Sam  Smith  the  highwayman  was  on  his  trial  there  to-day 
for  the  Thicket  robbery  and  hadn't  a  leg  to  stand  on.  The 
rascal  was  disguised  as  a  Quaker  when  taken,  and  the  best  of 
the  joke  is  that  he  swears  he  is  one!" 

[305] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUJLITT 

"Ho!  ho!  that  won't  wash.  Who  tries  the  case?" 

"Sir  Algernon,  I  suppose;  he  rides  that  circuit,1  don't  he?" 

Having  supped,  I  had  leisure  to  read  a  letter  from  my  good 
Colonel  Gunn  which  had  followed  me  to  Bath,  and  having 
been  put  into  my  hand  at  my  leaving  the  Full  Moon  Inn  that 
morning  had  awaited  my  leisure. 

"I  know  not  your  present  neighbourhood,  my  friend,"  wrote 
the  old  soldier,  "but  am  sending  these  to  your  brother's  house 
to  be  kept  or  forwarded  as  may  be. 

"Some  waif  word  of  your  fortune  has  reached  me,  whereon 
I  hope  to  present  my  gratulations  more  fully  when  next  we  meet. 

"As  you  may  have  heard  I  was  near  a  year  ago  the  victim 
of  a  small  but  annoying  mischance,  when  the  Bath  mail,  and 
I  among  other  passengers  thereby,  was  robbed  at  a  place  upon 
the  border  of  Berkshire.  The  crime  had  points  of  singularity, 
was  a  piece  of  strategy,  indeed,  and  the  thieves  escaped  for 
the  time  with  their  plunder.  It  appears  that  the  Crown  has 
laid  the  chief  perpetrator  by  the  heels  and  needs  the  testimony 
of  your  old  friend  to  convict  him.  In  a  word  I  am  summoned 
under  some  process  of  your  English  law  to  appear  for 
the  pursuer,  in  this  case  His  Majesty.  As  I  must  needs  pass 
through  London  I  will  do  myself  the  honour  of  calling 
upon  you." 

I  have  never  had  too  many  friends,  and  the  prospect  of 

1Sir  Algernon  Maskelyne-Fanshawe  was  taking  the  Oxford  Circuit  for  the  Autumn 
Assizes  that  year.  —  G.  F. 

[  Footnote,  which  may  be  skipt  by  the  hasty  reader.  ] 

The  triviality  of  all  this  may  well  surprise  you.  The  year  1 799,  though  unmarked  by 
the  horrid  catastrophes  which  reddened  some  others,  was  disquieting  enough  to  such 
as  had  eyes  to  see  or  brains  to  read  the  signs  of  the  times. 

The  Jacobins  had  fallen  out  among  themselves,  but  that  had  not  prevented  them  from 
crushing  the  unhappy  Switzers.  We  held  their  forces  cooped  up  in  Egypt,  but  General 
Buonaparte  was  let  slip  through  our  fingers,  a  dropt  catch  which  would  cost  us  many  a 
run,  almost  the  match,  indeed. 

Our  people  fondly  saw,  or  thought  they  saw,  signs  of  the  French  nation  returning  to 

[306] 


CHAPTER  THIRTY-THREE 


greeting  the  good  soul  who  had  so  staunchly  stood  by  me  at  a 
pinch  filled  me  with  pleasure.  I  had  some  dim  recollection  of 
the  circumstances  to  which  he  referred :  had  I  not  seen  the  ac- 
count of  it  in  the  Times,  whilst  awaiting  a  meal  somewhere  ? 
—  at  my  brother's  house  in  Clarges  Street  possibly.  There  was 
more  m  the  letter,  for  the  colonel  was  a  good  correspondent, 
but  the  increasing  confusion  of  my  surroundings  made  reading 
difficult. 

From  this  I  made  my  escape  the  more  willingly  that  I  was 
twice  accosted  by  mistaken  or  bemused  fellow  guests  de- 
manding that  I  should  drink  with  them  success  to  my  next 
day's  work. 

Nor  was  the  rustic  cupid  idle;  fumbling  my  way  darkling 
bedwards  I  was  the  unwilling  recipient  of  a  tender  embrace 
and  the  assurance,  "S'elp  me,  Doll,  I  love  ye  above  all  flesh 
except  bacon!"  To  which  the  nymph,  herself  unseen,  having 
(  by  what  sense  who  knows  ?  )  found  her  lover's  ear  in  the 
darkness,  saluted  the  same  with  a  sounding  cufF  and  the  counsel 
to  "  Gi'  out,  and  lat  the  gentleman  get  by. " 

"Yer   candle,  zur,"  she    added  somewhat  breathlessly  as 

its  senses  to  seek  peace  and  find  pardon  at  the  feet  of  its  legitimate  sovereign,  and  as  one 
means  towards  this  desirable  end,  we,  our  Government,  I  say,  were  concocting  a  plan 
for  landing  some  of  the  more  desperate  spirits  among  the  emigres  at  suitable  points  on 
the  French  coast  to  start  a  civil  war! 

This  might  pass;  the  scheme  to  assassinate  Buonaparte  which  was  ravelled  up  with  it, 
for  which,  I  fear,  English  arms  and  English  money  were  found,  is  not  so  easily  stomached. 

You  who  have  read  Mr.  Alison's  history  will  doubtless  have  imagined  that  we  in 
England  meanwhile  felt  in  the  presence  of  the  events  themselves  as  feverish,  as  breathless, 
as  you  felt  at  their  recital,  and  could  hardly  contain  our  anxieties  or  converse  upon 
ordinary  affairs. 

No  mistake  could  be  greater,  for,  to  begin,  the  historian  presents  to  you  in  one  picture 
to-day  the  results  of  a  thousand  separate  sketches  and  studies,  scarce  a  dozen  of  which 
were  known  to  us  at  the  time.  Moreover,  at  the  beginning  of  this  century  some  six-eighths 
of  our  people  were  illiterate,  another  eighth  read  with  difficulty  and  read  little,  while  of 
the  educated  residue  a  large  proportion  must  have  been  endowed  by  Nature  with  the 
imperturbable  digestion  which  is  the  parent  of  optimism,  and  were  perfectly  assured 
from  day  to  day,  and  from  year  to  year,  of  the  impending  downfall  of  the  Regi- 
cide Atheists. 

The  state  of  our  own  affairs  was  appalling,  yet  failed  to  appall.  That  the  fleet  was 

[  3°7 1 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

the  wooer  escaped;  "plague  take  thicky  tinder,  t'be  damp  as 
grains,"  she  muttered,  in  no  especial  haste,  as  I  fancied  to 
throw  a  light;  yet  'twas  a  kindly  girl  and  the  same  to  whom 
I  owed  my  first  warning,  as  I  saw  when  she  shewed  me  to  my 
garret  and  took  my  directions  as  to  calling  me  at  once  if  this 
Mr.  Smith  should  come. 

seething  with  mutiny  and  the  army  cankered  to  the  core,  that  our  choice  of  generals  lay 
between  the  very  bad  and  the  worst  possible,  the  one  the  cousin  of  the  Minister,  the  other 
the  son  of  the  King,  filled  us  with  no  especial  concern .  We  had  made  a  religion  of  hope, 
or  rather  of  a  pig-headed  certainty,  for  which  the  facts  gave  no  warrant,  and  for  which, 
from  His  Gracious  Majesty  to  his  latest  recruit,  no  man  of  us  could  have  furnished  a 
reason. 

To  such  folk  the  veritable  circumstance  made  no  odds.  The  Duke  of  York  might 
deplorably  mismanage  the  Helder  affair,  what  of  that  ?  His  Royal  Highness  was  a  jolly 
good  fellow,  a  patron  of  Newmarket,  and  an  all-round  sportsman,  every  jockey  and 
trainer  would  swear  to  as  much,  and  for  the  rest,  they'd  grant  you  he  had  been  unlucky, 
ill-seconded,  no  more.  In  war  someone  must  lose,  why  not  he  ?  To  round  on  the  man 
showed  an\mpatriotic  spirit.  Up  with  his  Column  in  the  Park  then,  and  damn  the  Whigs! 

"Bear  witness  all  ye  martial  bands 

O'er  whom  the  princely  York  bore  sway. 

To  you  his  wishes  were  commands, 
For  you  'twas  glory  to  obey  !  " 

Heavens!  what  fools  were  we!  yet  doubtless  there  was  work  for  us  to  do,  and  until 
we  had  done  it  we  stood  impregnable,  and  still  stand. 

During  those  long  months  of  distracted  counsels,  bloody  turmoils,  and  stupid  mis- 
management (  which  Mr.  Alison's  genius  compresses  into  a  chapter  )  we  lived  amaz- 
ingly at  our  ease.  (  I,  myself,  was  buying  hunters,  and  indulging  in  pleasurable  anticipa- 
tion of  the  sport  I  loved.  )  You  may  take  it  that  among  serious  people  one  heard  reference 
to  affairs  abroad  less  than  once  in  a  day,  whilst  in  such  company  as  this  at  the  Jack  of 
Newbury  at  Bedwyn,  the  strength  of  the  ale  or  the  staunchness  of  a  horse  occupied  the 
whole  field  of  mental  vision  to  the  exclusion  of  other  topics. 


[308] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A 

PERSON   OF  QUALITY 


CHAPTER  THIRTY-FOUR 
THE  MESSENGER 


1WAS  always  a  determined  sleeper;  it  is  the  one  bodily 
exercise  in  which  I  excel.  Nothing  keeps  me  awake 
and  nothing  wakes  me.  You  will  say  that  what 
follows  was  the  effect  of  a  bad  bed  or  a  close  room,  but  I  have 
no  more  recollection  of  that  room  or  bed  than  of  some  hun- 
dreds of  others.  If  the  ceiling  were  low  or  the  mattress  lumpy 
and  short  I  knew  nought  of  these  defects  but  snored  until 
roused  by  an  imperative  knocking  upon  my  door  and  a  voice 
saying, 

"Mr.  Fansbawe,  the  horse  is  waiting!" 

I  sat  up  less  than  half  awake,  replying  that  I  would  be  down 
in  three  minutes,  but  none  answered  nor  did  the  stair  creak. 

A  low  half-moon  wading  in  scud  peered  into  the  closet  giv- 
ing me  light  enough  to  find  my  clothes.  The  upper  floors  were 
dark  and  still,  but  I  was  awaited;  a  man  at  the  stair-foot 
guarding  a  candle  with  his  hand  silently  shewed  me  to  a  par- 
lour warmed  and  lit,  its  table  laid  for  one. 

"If  I  am  to  ride  thus  early,  I'll  break  my  fast  whilst  I  may," 
I  said,  yawning  immensely  and  rubbing  lids  which  fell  to- 
gether if  I  looked  at  a  light,  for  I  was  still  mazed  with  my  sud- 
den waking  and  had  no  clear  sense  of  what  I  was  about,  nor 
was  there  any  to  ask. 

[309] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITT 

I  had  bolted  some  mouthfuls  of  ham  and  bread,  and  had 
my  head  in  a  tankard,  when  a  man  summoned  me  in  a  stealthy 
whisper  to  the  half-opened  door,  "I  say  there,  hurry  up, 
George,  all  is  ready  and  the  house  is  rousing." 

The  well-meant  familiarity  of  this  from  a  stranger  surprised 
me  a  little,  but  my  noddle  still  hummed  with  sleep.  Reason 
was  in  abeyance,  and  such  faculties  as  were  active  responded  to 
outside  impulses.  In  a  word,  I  was  as  near  sleep-walking  as 
ever  I  have  known  myself. 

I  clapped  my  hat  on,  gripped  my  whip,  the  Mandeville  crop, 
and  stept  out  booted  and  spurred,  wiping  my  mouth  with  a 
large  silk  handkerchief. 

The  flying  moonlight  gleamed  and  faded  upon  the  upper 
casements,  but  the  well  of  the  yard  was  dark. 

There  stood  a  great  horse  half-clothed,  two  grooms  at 
his  head,  and  a  small  knot  of  men  at  a  safe  distance  from  his 
heels,  one  of  whom  flashed  a  dark  lanthorn  across  the  face  of 
a  watch.  "Four  sharp!"  said  he  in  an  undertone;  "mount, 
Fanshawe,  no  need  to  scale;  I'll  certify  ye  ride  overweight. 
Here's  your  certificate!"  He  thrust  it  into  my  pocket. 

"  But  —  but  —  "I  stammered  in  utter  bewilderment. 

"Confound you,  George!  This  comes  of  last  night's  lip-trap. 
Ye  lose  time,  and  I  warn  ye  the  thing  will  be  crossed  in  another 
minute!  Bend  a  leg!" 

A  man  had  me  by  the  ankle;  the  horse  swung  his  quarters, 
I  sprang  from  habit,  and  was  tost  into  the  saddle. 

"Go!"  said  a  voice  sharp  and  low.  The  grooms  at  his  head 
leapt  back,  the  cloth  slid  from  his  loins;  with  a  mighty  plunge 
he  shook  his  head,  spun  round  twice  and  neighed  as  if  calling 
to  a  stable  companion. 

"The  fat  is  in  the  fire  now!"  laughed  a  voice  in  the  dark- 
ness as  the  sparks  sprang  from  the  sarsen  cobbles. 

"Who!  —  where?"   I   asked    in    complete    bewilderment, 


CHAPTER  THIRTT-THREE 


feeling  for  the  off  stirrup  and  looking  over  my  shoulder,  for  it 
rushed  upon  me  that  this  was  all  a  blunder. 

None  answered,  for  a  casement  burst  open  above  and  some- 
one half  asleep,  or  stale  drunk,  leaned  out  lamenting  that  his 
boots  were  full  of  beer!  At  the  same  moment  there  was  a  rush 
of  half-dressed  men  from  an  entry  with  shouts  of  "Pull  up, 
sir!"  "Dismount,  you  there!"  "Wrong  man!"  "Stop  thief!" 
"No  start!" 

A  rocket  roared  aloft  and,  breaking,  threw  a  crimson  light 
into  the  black  hollow  of  that  cockpit,  echoing  now  to  stamping 
feet,  fisticuffs  and  curses.  And  that  was  the  last  I  was  to  see 
of  the  Jack  of  Newbury,  for  my  horse  had  found  his  bearings 
and  felling  with  his  shoulder  one  who  ran  at  his  head  (  missing 
the  bit  but  catching  the  throat-lash  which  broke  in  his  hand  ), 
plunged  under  the  arch. 

Into  the  pitch-black  street  we  came  headlong,  swinging  so 
sharply  to  the  left  as  nearly  to  unseat  me,  still  kicking  for 
that  stirrup  and  with  my  reins  in  a  tangle.  The  saddle,  too, 
was  new  and  slippery  and  not  to  my  shape. 

Of  all  this  the  masterful  beast  took  full  advantage;  stretching 
a  yard  or  more  of  powerful  neck,  he  drew  the  reins  through  my 
fingers  and  broke  away  at  a  gallop.  The  clatter  of  his  heels 
between  the  shuttered  house-fronts  was  like  the  file-firing  of  a 
company,  but  next  instant  was  muted,  we  were  upon  the  tan. 
The  horse  half-checked  with  a  startled  snort,  changed  his  foot, 
slid,  recovered,  crossed  his  legs  and  was  down,  and  with  a 
long  scramble  was  up  again  without  loss  of  impetus. 

The  fall  had  thrown  me  upon  his  poll,  his  rising  had  flung 
me  back  into  the  saddle,  where  so  soon  as  I  was  reseated,  I 
set  about  discovering  what  was  wrong  with  my  reins,  both  being 
upon  the  same  side  of  his  neck  and  coming  apparently  from  the 
neighbourhood  of  his  knees. 

What  had  happened  was  plainly  to  be  inferred  (  for  nothing 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF 


could  be  seen  ).  In  the  fall  my  hands  had  come  forward,  the 
bridle  had  passed  over  his  head  and  was  now  entirely  on  the 
near  side.  The  bit  was  out  of  his  mouth  and  dangled  loose, 
for  that  broken  throat-lash  had  let  the  head-stall  slip  over  his 
ears!  Next  moment  he  must  have  set  a  hind-foot  upon  it,  for 
the  straps  suddenly  tightened  across  my  thigh,  were  twitched 
from  my  grasp  and  left  behind! 

The  beast  was  aware  of  his  freedom  and,  quickening  his 
stride,  stretched  away  into  the  darkness  of  an  unknown  road 
at  a  pace  that  made  the  wind  roar  in  my  ears  and  my  eyes  to 
run  water. 

I  had  now  leisure  to  consider  my  situation,  borne  at  a 
tearing  gallop  by  a  very  large  and  powerful  brute  over  which 
I  had  not  the  smallest  control,  and  fell  a-thinking  what  was 
like  to  happen  at  our  first  toll-gate,  and  had  gotten  small 
light  upon  that  matter  when  a  green  rocket  rose  ahead,  and 
when  I  had  shot  unchallenged  through  the  open  pike,  another 
red  signal  flung  my  shadow  before  me  upon  the  road  notifying 
my  passage  and  warning  the  next  gate  of  my  approach. 

I  was  wide  awake  by  this,  you  will  believe.  These  lights  were 
sufficient  to  convince  me  that  I  was  the  victim  of  a  most  amaz- 
ing mistake,  or,  if  you  prefer  it,  the  innocent  perpetrator  of 
an  astounding  practical  joke. 

This  horse  that  I  was  riding  was  quite  evidently  the  one 
upon  which  the  wager  had  been  laid!  This  secretly-engineer'd 
start,  these  well-laid  arrangements  all  attested  the  fact,  and 
once  launched  upon  my  course  there  was  no  stopping  me,  who 
had  by  a  series  of  mischances  lost  the  power  to  stop  myself! 

Those  who  had  planned  this  match  had  planned  it  to  win,  and 
it  seemed  to  me  mighty  hard  that  the  thing  should  be  crossed 
by  a  chambermaid's  stupidity  and  a  snapped  throat-lash! 

Why  should  not  I  ride  it  through  ?  The  horse  knew  the  road, 
it  was  plain;  choosing  the  soundest  and  softest,  with  never  a 


CHAPTER  THIRTr-FOUR 


falter,  and  carrying  his  great  head  low,  he  dropt  back  into  a 
long  easy  stride  which  it  was  luxury  to  swing  to. 

Never,  save  once,  had  I  crossed  a  beast  so  massive  and 
elastic,  and  could  I  have  seen  our  line  I  had  laughed  aloud  to 
think  of  my  ridiculous  plight,  my  unpaid  bill  at  The  Jack, 
and  masterless  servants  at  The  Bear. 

These,  had  they  and  I  known  it,  were  at  the  moment  within 
hail,  for  at  my  second  gate  (which  was  lighted  and  guarded, 
as  were  the  rest )  I  passed  to  left  of  the  end  of  a  village  street 
silent  in  its  mist  and  stinking  of  tan-yards.  It  was  Hungerford, 
and  I  now  in  Berkshire.  But  of  this  at  the  time  I  had  not  an 
inkling,  for  the  terms,  distance,  and  destination  of  this  mad 
wager,  if  I  had  heard  them  overnight,  had  escaped  me. 

Though  reduced  from  pilot  to  passenger,  I  had  some  natural 
curiosity  as  to  our  course,  and  scrutinized  the  stars. 

My  little  mistress  had  taught  me  some  of  the  principal 
constellations,  but  I  had  never  watched  an  autumn  sky  with  her 
at  this  hour,  and  made  nothing  of  the  twinkling  points,  now 
dimmed,  now  keen  again,  which  played  in  and  out  with  the  mov- 
ing clouds. 

By  now  we  had  both  warmed  to  our  work,  and  were  upon  ex- 
cellent terms.  From  between  the  last  houses  of  Eddington  we 
swung  out  upon  the  Great  Bath  Road,  a  ten-mile  stretch  of  it, 
reckoned  by  the  shadowy  mile-stones,  and  for  league  after 
league  ploughed  through  a  wet  blanket  of  fog  whilst  snipe  cried 
"skape"  from  the  dark,  rushy  greens  beside  the  track  and 
skeins  of  duck  dropt  into  the  reed  beds  homing  from  their 
night's  banquet  among  the  barley-stubbles.  It  was  a  great 
morass,  and  so  thick  was  the  morning  that  only  the  bells  of 
the  wagon-teams  which  we  met  or  passed  told  us  of  their 
presence. 

Out  of  this  bank  we  came  at  length,  still  galloping,  and 
over  the  elms  I  saw  first  a  greyness  and  then  the  dawn,  and 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALirT 

looking  narrowly  upon  my  horse,  I  knew  him!  There  could  be  no 
doubt  of  it,  this  was  the  mighty  beast  whose  staunchness  and 
matchless  power  of  leaping  and  recovery  had  saved  the  Man- 
deville  master  stag.  Of  his  identity  I  made  no  question.  Certain 
tan-coloured  freckles  at  the  roots  of  his  ears  were  merely  con- 
firmatory, for  two  such  horses  as  he  for  size,  quality  and  colour 
are  not  foaled  in  a  century. 

The  superb  length  of  that  stride  I  had  never  forgot.  One 
could  balance  one's  crop  on  end  upon  one's  palm;  it  would  have 
been  an  easy  thing  to  have  carried  a  full  glass  without  spill- 
ing, so  regular,  so  rhythmical,  was  the  rise  and  fall  of  his 
pace  —  a  pace  without  haste  or  rest  —  which  consumed  the 
road,  and  whilst  appearing  deliberate,  was  putting  a  mile-stone 
behind  us  every  five  minutes,  as  my  watch  assured  me. 

Since  the  day  broke  I  had  passed  a  score  of  tilted  stage 
wagons,  broad-wheeled  and  huge,  and  three  coaches.  Most  of 
the  passengers  were  walking  to  warm  their  feet.  All  cheered 
me,  accepting  the  unbitted  horse  as  one  of  the  conditions  of 
the  wager. 

As  to  asking  a  question  of  these  people,  it  was  impossible; 
the  hurrahs  of  the  outsiders  dumbed  all  speech  but  their  own, 
whilst  the  wagoners  seemed  persons  of  the  slowest  wits  of  any 
I  had  met  with  in  my  travels,  for,  after  requiring  each  ques- 
tion to  be  put  to  them  twice,  they  bawled  "  Woa! "  to  their  teams 
by  way  of  reply  and  made  sign  to  me  to  stop,  by  which  time  I 
was  got  beyond  reach  of  their  voices. 

A  bagman  driving  a  blood-mare  in  a  high-wheeled  gig  kept 
pace  beside  me  and  conversed  very  affably  and  jocularly  after 
the  manner  of  his  class,  "Mornin',  m'lord!"  says  he,  critically 
surveying  the  grey,  "Dammy,  he's  a  rare  bit  o'  stuff!  all 
whalebone  and  whipcord!  .  .  .  And  y'are  makin'  better 
time  o't  than  yer  ludship  did  when  I  had  the  honour  o'pacin'  ye 
a  fortni't  since."  I  began  to  understand.  "Aha!  he  remembers 


CHAPTER  THIRTT-FOUR 


that  grass,  I  thought  as  much!"  My  steed  had  changed  from 
the  grit  to  a  stretch  of  sound  turf,  and  was  swinging  as  softly  and 
silently  as  a  child's  rocking-horse. 

We  had  risen  a  long  gentle  ascent  and  saw  below  us  a  little 
town  lying  about  a  square  belfry,  its  hundred  chimneys  sending 
their  blue  hearth-smokes  all  one  way  across  the  red  roofs. 
"Noobra,"  said  my  companion  in  reply  to  my  lifting  eyebrow, 
adding  with  a  glance  at  my  horse's  head,  "That's  the  match, 
I  take  it?" 

"  By  no  means,  he  slipt  it  at  starting. " 

"Then  I'll  push  ahead  and  get  this  gate  shut  and  borrow 
one  for  ye  at  the  Pelican." 

"Ye  will  kindly  let  well  alone,"  said  I,  "And  I  thank  ye 
all  the  same,  but  he  can  go  no  better  than  he  is  going,  and 
I've  a  fancy  to  leave  him  in  charge. " 

The  man  wheezed  genial  approval,  observing  that  there 
was  a  pair  of  us.  "That's  his  stable  friend  he  is  hollering 
after,"  said  he,  when  the  grey  lifted  the  load  off  his  great 
heart  with  a  shrill  nicker.  "Keep  an  eye  for  Sam  Smith!"  he 
cried  after  me  at  our  parting,  a  mile  of  raw  flints  reducing  him 
to  a  walk,  but  making  no  odds  to  me  upon  the  roadside  grass. 

Newbury  we  left  upon  our  right.  It  was  now  between  five 
and  six  of  a  clear  morning  and  along  the  last  of  the  fen  through 
which  the  Kennet  winds  the  turf  cutters  were  at  work  turning 
or  stacking  their  summer's  peat.  Far  ahead  of  me  through  the 
limpid  air  of  morning  I  could  see  their  heads  bobbing,  saw 
some  stop  work  and  run  for  the  road.  "Not  to  greet  me,  surely," 
thought  I,  who  was  yet  hidden  from  them  by  hedges.  Nor  was  it 
for  me  they  had  run,  for  when  I  came  to  the  place  a  dozen 
labourers  stood  looking  stolidly  at  a  heavy  fellow  in  a  long  blue 
coat  fallen  bleeding  in  a  rut.  Hearing  hoofs  he  half  arose 
upon  an  elbow  and  looked  upon  me  dull-eyed,  a  look  which  the 
yokels  worded  for  him  as  "Hey,  mister!" 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QJUALITT 

Whatever  his  need  it  had  to  be  served  by  others,  the  grey 
held  on  stoutly,  swerving  wide  and  quickening  as  we  neared 
the  crowd  as  a  free  horse  will  that  fears  a  detaining  hand. 

A  furlong  further  on  a  riderless  hackney  nibbled  the  road- 
side green,  his  forefeet  hoppled  in  his  reins. 

By  my  guess  we  had  come  twenty  miles  without  for  a  moment 
shortening  this  incomparable  stride;  now  at  a  slight  ascent  my 
steed  dropt  to  a  trot  and  halted,  as  though  at  this  spot  he  had 
been  eased  before.  Down  I  slipt  and  stood,  resting  his  back, 
but  with  foot  in  stirrup,  you  may  be  sure,  and  hand  on  pommel, 
and  was  in  my  seat  again  at  his  first  movement. 

They  say  Mr.  John  Wesley  wrote  his  sermons  in  the  saddle; 
be  that  as  it  may,  my  own  experience  is  that  whilst  one  may 
think  consecutively  whilst  at  a  trot,  regular  and  continuous 
reflection  is  difficult  when  galloping;  the  mind  is  too  alive 
and  nimble,  too  receptive  of  impressions  to  work;  the  passage 
of  a  bird's  shadow  distracts;  it  is  like  trying  to  add  a  sum  whilst 
running.  There,  for  instance,  when  I  would  be  thinking  of 
my  little  mistress,  was  a  man  upon  the  road  ahead  of  me  leading 
a  horse,  a  man,  whom  when  I  approached  I  found  to  be  the  fellow 
of  him  who  had  fallen  two  miles  back,  nor  had  this  one  been 
much  more  fortunate,  for  he  was  dusty  from  a  tumble,  and  by 
the  way  his  horse  lifted  his  forefeet  I  presaged  broken  knees. 
Him,  dizzy  from  his  mishap,  I  overtook  before  he  was  aware 
of  hooves  upon  the  grass.  When  too  late  he  began  to  bellow, 
but  so  inarticulately  that  beyond  maledictions  upon  me  for  not 
drawing  rein  I  caught  little  of  his  desires,  and  the  last  that  I 
heard  of  his  wishes  was  for  my  eternal  discomfiture  in  company 
with  somebody  of  the  name  of  Smith:  a  personality  who  seemed 
that  day  to  represent  the  Father  of  All  Mischief  along  the 
Great  Bath  Road. 

Back  to  my  thoughts  again,  vaguely  happy  as  a  boy,  play- 
ing with  my  whip,  that  one  this  horse  had  earned  in  Yorkshire, 


CHAPTER  THIRTT-FOUR 


a  four  foot  crab-stock,  glossy  and  hard,  ending  in  a  buck- 
horn  crome,  as  we  say  in  Suffolk,  the  burr  being  heavy  and 
its  brow-tine  straight  and  sharp. 

How  this  jaunt  would  end  I  cared  not  a  jot;  I  was  wholly 
irresponsible,  it  was  my  holiday,  and  I  had  worked  hard  of 
late  and  not  unsuccessfully.  That  good  old  Quaker's  forecast 
had  come  true.  /  had  been  used,  and  the  work  I  had  done  had, 
God  knows,  been  very  far  indeed  from  what  any  of  the  Friends 
would  or  could  have  undertaken.  A  great  estate  and  an  ancient 
name  pulled  out  of  the  fire,  a  rogue  unmasked,  a  brother  saved, 
wedded  and  settled,  and  all  this  due  to  the  wild  work  of  a  few 
hours.  My  work  ?  I  laughed  outright;  I  was  as  innocent  of  it 
as  of  this  fool  ride  and  of  all  that  might  come  of  it.  I  had  been 
used;  that  summed  it  up;  I  had  been  the  puppet,  a  hand  had 
pulled  the  strings. 

Well,  all  that  seemed  over,  and  after  all,  Blakenham  being 
off  my  hands,  I  had  my  life  to  live  and  was  minded  to  live 
it  according  to  my  own  plans.  Miss  Phoebe,  now  —  (  God 
bless  her! )  —  how  in  heaven's  name  to  extricate  her  from 
the  sweetbriar  maze  of  her  Friendly  surroundings?  "For" 
(  said  I  ),  "George  Fanshawe,  you  are  not,  and  never  will 
be,  a  Friend;  if  a  footpad  jumped  out  of  that  hedge  you  would 
hit  him,  sir;  which  would  grieve  Miss  Phoebe,  George;  for 
she  is  a  Friend  and  will  never  be  anything  else. " 

"Well,  then,"  said  I,  "God  mend  all!"  and  remembering, 
rather  late,  that  I  had  said  no  prayer  at  my  rising  that  mor- 
ning, I  made  shift  to  put  my  case  into  His  hands  who  had  al- 
ready carried  me  through  so  much,  and  once  upon  this  line 
reflected  upon  the  pits  of  glowing  sin  He  had  held  me  back 
from,  until  my  past  life  seemed  to  me  to  have  been  steps  picked 
across  some  quaking  crust  seamed  by  fires  beneath. 

I  had  put  on  my  hat  again  and,  glancing  ahead,  was  ware 
of  a  saddle-horse  close  at  hand  in  a  lane's  end  between  two 

[317] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUJLITT 

hollies  (  Calcot-Row  Bottom  was  the  place).  His  rider  was 
standing  behind  him  with  his  head  down,  as  one  stands  when 
taking  up  a  girth.  Hardly  had  I  seen  so  much  ere  we  were  past, 
and  the  man  mounting  very  adroitly,  and  his  horse  jumping 
off  into  a  gallop,  came  up  on  my  whip-hand  with  a  rush. 

I  saw  what  was  coming,  and  awaited  the  "Stand  and  deliver," 
a  demand  with  which  it  was  out  of  my  power  to  comply. 

It  is  possible  my  assailant  had  seen  my  predicament  too 
late,  and,  being  a  person  of  few  words,  made  no  ado,  but  rapped 
out  a  request  for  my  watch  and  purse  from  behind  a  levelled 
pistol. 

All  this  passed  in  the  winking  of  an  eye.  Acting  sheerly  upon 
instinct,  without  thought  or  premeditation,  I  caught  my  crop 
by  the  whipping  of  the  loop  and  swung  but  a  stroke  at  the 
thiePs  head. 

Bang!  went  his  weapon  as  I  struck,  and  something  took  me 
over  the  crown  like  the  cut  of  a  thong. 

Both  horses  sprang  forward  at  the  shot,  for  a  few  strides  the 
grey's  courage  and  reach  kept  us  level,  then  the  lighter  and 
fresher  animal  drew  away. 

The  thief  had  dropt  pistol  and  reins,  a  vizard  concealed  his 
face,  he  swayed  heavily  in  his  seat,  leaning  more  and  more 
towards  me,  fumbling  with  his  hands  upon  the  mane,  his  knees 
clipping  the  saddle  weakly.  One  word  he  uttered  thickly  as  a 
man  speaks  in  sleep;  "able,"  said  he,  and  over  he  came,  taking 
the  road  between  the  horses  heavily. 

His  left  foot,  still  held  by  the  stirrup,  trailed  him  leaping 
with  each  leap  of  his  horse  for  a  couple  of  strides,  when  the 
boot  drew,  and  the  grey  swinging  wide  passed  the  fallen  thief 
untouched  where  he  lay. 

The  event  had  occurred  with  bewildering  suddenness  —  (so 
had  the  ruffian  planned  it ).  It  was  the  leap  of  a  fox  upon  a 
rabbit;  calculated,  prearranged;  a  pounce,  a  snap  —  but, 


CHAPTER  THIRTT-FOUR 


behold  the  biter  bit,  a  comicality  to  make  a  song  about,  and 
which  tickled  me  for  the  moment  to  a  spasm  of  laughter;  my 
blind  backhander  had  knocked  him  out  of  his  saddle,  and 
after  such  a  bumping  he  would  hardly  resume  the  chase. 

I  was  in  the  highest  spirits  and  quite  unconscious  of  being 
hurt.  That  the  escape  had  been  of  the  narrowest  I  was  presently 
convinced;  my  whip-stock  was  broke,  either  by  the  blow  or 
the  bullet,  horn  and  ferule  were  gone;  my  ear  sang  with  the 
shot,  and  neck  and  cheek  tingled  with  powder-grains.  And 
then,  without  warning,  my  inwards  heaved,  the  singing 
in  my  head  became  a  roaring,  a  dizziness  enmeshed  me  like  a 
net,  and  I  tasted  blood  in  my  mouth  (  but  that  was  but  fancy  ). 
To  fight  these  weaknesses  was  as  much  as  I  could  manage, 
nor  do  I  know  how  long  they  assailed  me,  but  presently  warm 
blood  running  over  my  face  and  behind  my  ears  brought 
relief,  and  the  yellow  mist  before  my  eyes  cleared  and  there 
was  the  grey's  head,  (  carried  rather  low  now  ),  rising  and 
falling  to  his  steady  canter,  easy  and  slow,  not  seven  miles  an 
hour  by  this  I  should  say,  for  the  end  was  coming. 

And  then  it  seemed  the  road  was  lined  by  cheering  horse- 
men, a  score  of  them,  and  early  as  was  the  hour,  foot-people 
were  upon  gates  and  rails,  every  soul  of  them  waving  a  hat  and 
bawling  his  best. 

The  grey  and  his  rider  needed  it  all;  slower  and  still  slower 
he  cantered,  but  canter  he  did,  until  at  a  great  posting  inn, 
The  Castle,  where  the  road  begins  to  fall  towards  the  town 
below,  he  drew  up  beneath  a  cedar  tree,  and  stood  with  round 
red  nostrils  and  shaking  tail. 

Wearied  he  might  be,  but  with  spirit  unquenched  he  pealed 
out  one  of  his  wild  calls,  and  first  among  those  who  ran  to  his 
help  was  a  stable-lad  carrying  a  tortoiseshell  cat,  the  dumb 
friend  and  none  other  that  my  steed  had  galloped  thirty 
miles  to  find! 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

A  band  of  well-dressed  men  was  awaiting  us,  haggard, 
white-lipped,  on  tip-toe  with  anxiety. 

As  we  stopt  a  storm  of  cries  broke  forth."  Begad,  he  has  won! " 
"Fudge,  he  has  lost!"  "Are  ye  then  the  referee,  sir?"  "Well 
ridden,  Fanny!"  "He  is  hurt!"  "Bleeding  at  the  nose;  'tis 
nothing!"  "Don't  dismount;  for  heaven's  sake  keep  your  seat, 
sir!"  "Where's  Copleston  ?  —  Now  sir,  which  is  it  ?" 

A  little  person  standing  amidst  taller  men,  lifted  his  eye 
from  his  watch  and  amidst  the  silence  of  that  expectant  throng 
I  heard  a  distant  church  clock  striking. 

"Won  by  ten  seconds,  if  he  carried  the  weight.  Where's 
your  certificate  ?  Thanks.  You  may  dismount,  Mr.  Fanshawe. " 

I  slid  down  heavily  and  was  almost  carried  to  the  scale 
and  my  saddle  put  into  my  lap. 

"A  close  shave,  but  an  ounce  to  the  good.  Whatever  made 
ye  ride  so  fine  ?  And  where  did  ye  lose  your  bridle  ?" 

The  tense  anxiety  of  the  backers  found  relief  in  a  chorus 
of  ejaculations  of  the  self-congratulatory  cast.  A  loser  gloomed 
on  me  with  sour  intentness  as  I  rose  from  the  scale  and  re- 
moved my  hat.  "Stop!"  he  cried  with  sudden  heat.  "Hi,  here, 
Copleston,  you've  not  given  the  race  yet.  Don't!  This  isn't 
Fansbawe!  I  protest!" 

For  a  moment  there  was  silence,  disbelief  yielding  to 
scrutiny.  Uncovered  and  standing,  the  fact  was  evident,  and 
those  who  a  moment  earlier  had  thought  themselves  winners 
turned  upon  me  with  a  volley  of  angry  questions.  I  looked 
from  side  to  side  ringed  by  white  excited  faces  all  working 
with  incoherent  demands. 

"Mr.  Copleston,  if  that  is  your  name,"  I  said,  "I  can  an- 
swer all  these  gentlemen  in  a  word.  The  thing  is  a  blunder 
from  first  to  last.  I  came  because  the  horse  brought  me,  and  by 
no  will  or  design  of  my  own.  Who  owns  the  animal  and  what 
he  was  backed  to  do  I  know  no  more  than  Mr.  Pitt.  He  bolted 

[320] 


CHAPTER  THIRTT-FOUR 


with  me  from  Bedwyn  as  the  clock  struck  four,  cast  his  bridle, 
and  here  I  am,  George  Fanshawe  of  Chorley,  very  much  at 
your  service;  and  now  for  pity's  sake  a  glass  of  beer." 

The  place  began  to  go  round  with  me;  I  was  shaking  all 
over,  and  holding  myself  together  with  an  effort.  This 
some  of  them  saw,  and  had  me  into  the  house  and  laid  me  all 
along  upon  a  settle,  and  whilst  one  sponged  my  face,  another 
spied  the  mark  of  the  bullet,  and  my  hat  being  handed  round 
and  its  two  holes  wondered  at,  excitement  ran  high. 

The  room  resounded  with  confident  assertion  and  counter- 
assertion.  The  match  was  landed,  was  lost,  was  off,  must  be  re- 
ridden.  The  one  party  having  recovered  from  their  surprise  were 
urging  that  the  horse  had  won,  their  opponents  vehemently 
holding  that  the  man  had  lost.  As  to  the  name  by  which  I  was 
pleased  to  call  myself,  neither  side  gave  it  a  thought.  That 
I  had  stolen  the  horse  was  suggested,  and  the  propriety  of  send- 
ing for  a  constable  was  met  by  the  alternative  suggestion  for 
putting  me  under  the  pump !  Seldom  have  I  found  myself  in  so 
false  a  position,  and  the  faintness  hanging  heavily  upon  me,  I 
found  it  beyond  my  power  to  assert  myself  effectively. 

I  had  husbanded  my  wits  for  this  inevitable  explanation, 
and  you  will  admit  that  to  be  plunged  into  the  midst  of  it  with 
a  broken  head  was  the  hardest  of  luck. 

Meanwhile,  having  said  my  say,  I  lay  back  and  let  them  fight 
it  out,  hearing  as  through  a  door  the  disputants  wrangling,  and 
the  small  referee  pulled  this  way  and  that  by  over-energetic 
partizans. 

Then  a  great,  cheery  laugh,  which  I  knew,  rang  out,  and  into 
the  midst  of  it  all  bounced  Bob  Dawnay.  "Sorry  I  missed  the 
finish.  So  we've  won,  I  hear?"  At  this  Bedlam  broke  loose 
afresh,  ten  men  at  the  least  explaining  simultaneously  to  the 
new  comer  the  merits  of  their  several  points  of  view.  He  glanced 
at  Copleston.  "You  are  reserving  your  decision?  Let  us  look 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

at  the  fellow,  anyhow.  Why!  'tis  Doodles,  by  the  Lord!  Bless 
the  man!  What  has  happened?"  and  the  dear  old  fellow  was 
hanging  over  me  with  the  grt  itest  solicitude  in  the  world, 
whilst  the  room  hushed  its  discords  for  a  moment  in  presence 
of  his  obvious  recognition. 

In  a  trice  he  had  assumed  command,  that  was  his  way;  the 
part  fitted  him,  and  tho'  he  was  near  the  youngest  present,  all 
listened  when  he  raised  his  voice. 

Bob  was  never  the  man  to  approach  an  audience  with  a 
deprecatory  simper.  He  went  to  the  point,  as  he  rode  at  a  locked 
gate,  "over"  or  "through." 

"Look  here,  gentlemen,  won  or  lost,  my  friend  here,  Mr. 
George  Fanshawe,  is,  for  the  moment,  in  no  condition  to  do 
himself  justice,  or  indeed  to  endure  this  racket.  He  has  been 
badly  used  on  the  road  and  needs  refreshment  and  quiet.  I  will 
ask  you  to  leave  him  in  my  hands  for  a  hour  " 

The  referee  lifted  his  hand,  his  face  clearing.  "Certainly,  Mr. 
Dawnay,  and  your  word  settles  it.  Listen,  gentlemen,  if  you 
please.  The  race  was  to  be  ridden  from  the  Jack  at  Bedwyn  to 
the  Castle  here  at  Reading,  by  Mr.  George  Fanshawe,  and  I 
find  that  a  person  of  that  name  carrying  the  weight  has  covered 
the  distance  within  the  time,  and  award  him  the  stakes  .  .  . 
No,  sir,  your  protest  is  overruled.  I  have  spoken. " 

Bob's  voucher  was  enough.  In  one  moment  I  had  become 
again  a  person  of  consideration  to  be  courted  and  propitiated, 
and  was  like  to  have  been  questioned  and  flattered  to  death. 

Two  hours  later  I  was  another  man;  had  bathed  and  break- 
fasted, and  been  refitted  from  top  to  toe  from  Dawnay 's  valise, 
and  had  seen  the  gallant  grey  drenched  with  stout,  gruel  and 
beef-tea,  a  fresh-stript  sheep-skin  hot  from  the  carcase,  laid 
to  his  loins,  extended  at  his  ease  half  lost  in  straw,  whilst 
his  own  man  rubbed  his  ears,  and  the  tortoiseshell  caressed  his 
muzzle. 

[322] 


CHAPTER  THIRTT-FOUR 


Bob  regarded  this  scene  of  contentment  with  an  inscrutable 
face.  From  a  word  he  had  dropt  I  gathered  there  had  been 
near  as  many  guineas  laid  upon  the  grey's  success  as  there  were 
hairs  upon  his  body,  and  that  certain  persons  —  his  owner 
amongst  them  —  had  wagered  sums  they  could  have  ill  af- 
forded to  lose.  "Fanny  is  a  fool,  Doodles,  and  between  our- 
selves, has  got  into  the  hands  of  a  Corinthian  set.  If  this  thing 
had  been  crossed  or  lost,  the  judge  would  hardly  have  held  up 
his  head  again.  I  say  it.  And  he  wasn't  the  only  pigeon,  begad. 
I  was  in  it,  and  deep,  too  deep.  It  has  made  me  sweat  to  think 
on't;  for  the  thing  has  been  a  plant,  as  I  can  now  see  and 
suspected  earlier.  And  look  here,"  he  stood  away  from  me, 
eyeing  me  strangely.  "  'Tis  the  second  time,  Doodles,  you've 
got  me  out  of  a  scrape.  It  shall  be  the  last.  I  reserved  horses, 
you  remember  ?  Well,  I  throw  them  in,  man.  No  more  of  this 
tomfoolery.  So  help  me,  God!" 


MEMOIRS  OF  A 

PERSON  OF  QUALITY 


CHAPTER    THIRTY-FIVE 
THE  MESSAGE 


YOU,  my  young  relatives,  when  children,  may  have  looked, 
as  I  have  looked  when  a  child,  through  the  eye-slits  of 
a  raree-show  and  watched  scene  pursue  scene  across 
the  field  of  vision  faster  and  faster  as  the  showman  ( having 
pouched  your  pence  and  impatient  to  be  gone  ),  turned  his 
handle  with  increasing  speed. 

With  similar  bewildering  rapidity  did  the  events  of  this 
memorable  day  scamper  past,  leaping  upon  one  another's 
backs. 

Whilst  I  was  still  enjoying  my  breakfast  —  ( how  one 
eats  at  two-and-twenty! )  —  three  post-chaises  rattled  up, 
and  the  whole  story  must  be  retold  afresh  to  the  astonished 
ears  of  my  fellow-guests  of  the  Bedwyn  Jack.  What  I 
should  have  been  compelled  to  listen  to  had  I  lost  may  be 
conjectured;  having  won,  I  was  pelted  with  compliments  by 
persons  who  by  their  own  accounts  had  spent  in  my 
pursuit  some  of  the  most  miserably  anxious  hours  of  their 
lives. 

Here  then  I  made  first  acquaintance  with  the  gentleman 
whom  I  had  unwittingly  personated,  my  distant  cousin,  Mr. 
George  Maskelyne-Fanshawe,  who  accepted  an  absurd  situa- 
tion with  the  better  grace  since,  for  reasons  apart  from  the 


CHAPTER  THIRTY -FIVE 


soaking  of  his  boots,  he  had  been  in  no  condition  to  have 
ridden. 

"Twas  a  something  put  into  my  nightcap,  sir,  by  one  of 
the  gang  ye  saw;  a  deed  set  of  scoundrelly  Hebrews,  bent  on 
crossing  the  match  one  way  if  they  couldn't  in  another.  But, 
'fore  George,  sir!  never  again;  trust  me,  never  again!" 

I  listened  to  the  man  with  more  interest  than  his  conversa- 
tion merited,  as  was  natural  considering  that  during  some 
twelve  hours  we  had  repeatedly  passed  for  one  another.  I 
confess  I  could  see  no  likeness,  and  was  little  flattered  at 
being  thought  to  resemble  him.  At  the  same  time,  a  similarity 
which  had  imposed  upon  so  many  must  have  had  some  basis, 
probably  consisting  more  in  tricks  of  manner  than  in  the 
fashion  of  features.  As  to  height,  I  think  I  had  the  advantage 
by  an  inch,  tho'  he  was  the  heavier  man.  When  in  company  no 
one  would  have  assumed  our  relationship,  and  to  repeat  the 
opinion  expressed  at  the  time,  a  bad  light  had  much  to  do 
with  it. 

You  must  all  have  known  cases  of  the  kind;  I  myself  re- 
call two  brothers  at  Eton  whose  hair  and  complexion,  ages  and 
voices  were  sufficiently  different,  yet  whom  these  discrepancies 
could  not  save  from  constant  mistakes  as  to  identity  upon  the 
parts  both  of  their  masters  and  companions. 

My  escapade  had  left  me  with  nothing  worse  than  a  plais- 
tered  crown  and  such  a  headache  as  a  young  man  may  accept 
in  silence  and  hope  to  walk  off. 

Bob  was  for  my  company  to  the  Town  Hall  where  the  judges 
were  sitting.  "They  summoned  me  on  the  Grand  Jury,  Dood- 
les, a  beastly  chouse;  it  does  me  out  of  some  excellent  shooting, 
as  I  told  'em;  but  these  big-wigs  have  no  bowels!" 

It  was  his  first  appearance  upon  the  panel,  and  for  all  his 
assumption  of  annoyance  he  was  enjoying  the  dignity. 

"We  returned  a  true  bill  last  night  against  some  Quaker 

[325] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

fellow  for  murder.  The  man  —  if  they  have  the  right  man  — 
is  suspected  of  other  matters,  seems  a  sort  of  criminal  Jack- 
of-all-trades,  but  the  main  charge  will  hang  him  if  they  prove 
it.  'Tis  a  vastly  odd  case  —  a  queerer  ye  never  heard;  he  stands 
his  trial  this  morning,  and  I'm  curious  to  see  how  it  goes; 
(fact,  I've  a  guinea  on't. )  What  say  ye,  shall  we  look  in  ?  " 

Whilst  crossing  the  Market-Place  my  companion  was  ac- 
costed by  one  who  had  served  with  him  on  the  previous  day. 
"Ha,  Mr.  Dawnay!  What,  not  satisfied  with  our  finding?  No 
more  am  I,  myself;  no  more  is  the  half  of  us.  We  were  too 
precipitate,  sir,  I'll  be  sworn.  But  'tis  too  late  for  the  wretch, 
I  fear.  You  will  find  our  box  nigh  as  full  as  yesterday.  There's 
a  baker's  dozen  of  'em  watching  the  case,  and  some  money  upon 
it,  too. " 

"And  how  is  it  going,  Mr.  Merton  ?" 

"Why;  very  ill  for  the  man,  sir;  very  ill  indeed.  It  was  even 
betting,  or  a  shade  in  his  favour,  when  the  case  was  called, 
but  you  may  back  him  to  better  advantage  now,  sir,  or  save 
your  money;  for  unless  the  fellow  can  conquer  the  prejudices 
of  his  friends,  Dawkins  is  sure  of  a  verdict.  Friends,  indeed! 
May  the  Lord  deliver  me  from  such!" 

"What?   Is't   possible  the  obstinate   fools  won't  swear?" 

"Devil  a  bit,  sir;  not  even  to  save  life:  for  it  comes  to  that. 
There  are  two  in  court  now,  a  married  couple,  plain,  honest- 
looking,  respectable  folk,  whose  oaths,  if  they  would  take 
'em,  would  go  far  with  any  jury;  but,  would  ye  believe  it, 
Mr.  Dawnay,  they  are  rock,  sir,  and'll  cling  to  their  super- 
stition and'll  see  their  man  hang  before  they'll  kiss  the  book. 
And  what's  oddest,  neither  will  he  nor  his  people  urge  them. 
I  don't  dislike  the  look  of  the  man  myself.  Apart  from  his 
folly,  he  seems  a  sober  sort,  with  a  double  dose  of  sanctimony 
thrown  in. " 

"What  is  his  answer  to  the  charge  ?" 

[326] 


CHAPTER  THIRTY -FIVE 


"Mistaken  identity  put  simply  as  a  plea  of '  Not  Guilty,' 
when,  of  course,  it  should  be  backed  with  an  alibi.  Three  of 
his  workpeople  swear  to  his  return  upon  a  certain  day;  but 
that  won't  serve,  for  the  distance  might  be  covered  in  the  time, 
and  he  can't,  or  won't,  prove  what  he  was  doing  meanwhile. 
So  he's  a  dead  man,  or  as  good  as.  No,  there  will  be  no 
commutation  nor  reprieve,  for  ye  see,  local  feeling  runs  strong  — 
the  roads  must  be  made  safe.  This  thing  has  gone  on  too  long; 
an  example  is  sorely  needed;  better  hang  the  wrong  man  than 
hang  nobody,  they  say;  and  perhaps  they're  right,  eh  ?  Ye  agree 
with  me  ?" 

Chattering  thus,  he  stood  aside  to  let  a  blue  wagon  go  creak- 
ing past,  I  saw  something  within  it  covered  by  a  rick-sheet. 

Bob's  acquaintance  —  a  small  squire,  as  I  judged  —  had 
turned,  and  was  retracing  his  steps  beside  us,  still  full  of  his 
subject,  and  possibly  gratified  at  being  seen  in  Dawnay's 
company. 

"If  there's  a  chance  for  him  it  lies  in  the  Serjeant's  conduct. 
Dawkins  is  inflaming  the  case;  he  always  does;  'tis  his  way." 

"So  I've  heard,"  said  Bob,  "thank  God,  'tis  not  my  way. 
I'm  always  for  plenty  of  law;  never  hulloa  until  the  fox 
has  crossed  two  fences.  Now  a  poor  devil  on  his  trial  is  precious 
like  a  fox  when  he  breaks.  'Give  the  devil  his  due,'  say  I,  and 
the  poorer  the  devil  why  the  more  the  due,  eh  ?  If  I  were  in 
the  box  Dawkins  would  set  my  back  up. " 

"He  has  set  the  judge's  back  up;  they  were  sparring 
prettily  when  I  left.  Well,  good  day,  t'ye,  Mr.  Dawnay.  I'd  stay 
and  see  it  out  but  I  have  far  to  ride,  and  the  roads  are  none 
too  safe  after  dark. " 

The  Assize  was  held  in  the  Town  Hall  hard  by  the  Market- 
place —  a  mean  building,  long  and  low,  divided  by  double  cur- 
tains at  half  its  length,  and  temporarily  converted  to  the  uses 
of  the  two  courts.  Any  arrangement  more  squalid,  makeshift 

[327] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

or  comfortless,  would  be  hard  to  devise.The  court  was  as  cramp- 
ed, as  gloomy  and  fully  as  foetid  as  a  jail. 

Dividing  the  hangings,  my  friend  ushered  me  into  the  crimi- 
nal side,  and,  edging  slowly  through  the  crowd,  introduced  me 
to  the  stuffy  pen  set  apart  for  the  grand  jury.  It  was  well 
filled.  The  room,  at  its  best,  must  have  been  dark,  and  seemed 
dismally  so  to  eyes  used  to  the  sunshine  without.  The  best  lit 
figure  was  the  Red  Judge;  the  clear-cut  marble  paleness  of  his 
face  framed  in  the  massive  wig  was  thrown  up  against  the  dark 
furniture  of  the  bench  and  canopy.  It  was  Sir  Algernon  Maske- 
lyne-Fanshawe.  I  knew  him  at  the  first  glance,  and  need  have 
felt  no  surprise.  The  man  was  in  his  right  place.  Had  I  not 
heard  it  said  over-night  at  the  Jack  that  he  was  trying  this 
case  ?  He  was  listening  with  an  air  of  weary  disapproval  to 
some  heated  remarks  from  a  stout  counsel  whose  face  I  could 
not  see. 

Dawnay  spied  a  friend.  I  slipt  into  the  last  seat  vacant. 
A  grand  juryman,  whispering  behind  his  hand,  apprised  me  of 
the  turn  things  were  taking. 

"Evidence  for  prosecution  finished;  Dawkins  up,  spoiling 
a  strong  case  by  —  listen  to  that,  now!" 

The  Serjeant's  full,  big,  unmodulated  voice  was  unpleasantly 
aggressive;  his  attitude,  bent  forward  across  his  papers,  with 
hands  conjoined  beneath  his  gown  behind,  suggested  a  game- 
cock setting  to  his  adversary. 

"I   repeat,   m'lud  —  " 

"What  you  have  not  proved,  my  learned  brother;  pray 
get  on  with  your  case. " 

"  —  the  pigheadedness   of  pragmatical   antinomians  —  " 

"To  whom  are  you  referring  ?" 

"To  the  people  called  Quakers. " 

"The  sect  is  not  upon  its  trial,  brother  Dawkins,  nor  have 
we  evidence  of  what  ye  allege. " 


CHAPTER  THIRTY -FIVE 


"But,  common  fame,  m'lud —  " 

"  Is  not  evidence,  nor  is  common  defamation. " 

A  subdued  titter  rippled  over  the  audience.  The  big  coun- 
sel glared  to  right  and  left  of  him  ere  he  resumed. 

"M'lud,  I  submit  that  I  am  entitled  to  place  my  own  inter- 
pretation of  the  evidence  before  the  jury  without  dictation 
from  the  bench!" 

("The  old  fool!  —  There!  Fanshawe  is  going  to  let  him 
have  it!"  muttered  a  voice  at  my  ear.  ) 

"The  court,  my  learned  brother  — "  began  the  judge  in  a 
little  far-away,  weary  voice,  very  low  and  clear,  "the 
court  allows  you  every  latitude  in  dealing  with  the  facts,  but 
has  drawn,  and  will  continue  to  draw,  the  line  at  impertinent 
obiter  dicta  unwarranted  by  the  evidence  and  unworthy  of  the 
high  traditions  of  the  bar. " 

"Well  done,  Sir  Algernon!"  murmured  someone  near  me, 
"the  serjeant  has  met  his  match  at  last!" 

'Impertinent*  my  lud  ?  'Obiter  dicta,'  m'lud  ?  I  appeal 
to  your  ludship!  I  appeal  to  my  brethren  of  the  circuit! 
To  what  depths  have  the  liberties  of  counsel  sunk  if  we  are  to 
be  hampered  in  the  conduct  of  a  case  for  the  Crown,  publicly 
checked  and  censured  for  a  casual  allusion  to  the  notorious 
poltroonery,  the  insensate  bigotry  of  disloyal  sectaries  ? " 

"Have  a  care,  my  learned  brother;  I  am  not  one  whom  it  is 
safe  to  defy." 

The  big  counsel  wagging  a  purple  jowl  boomed  some  hot 
rejoinder.  The  judge  bent  upon  him  a  face  of  cold  displeasure. 

"Sit  down,  sir.  You  have  disregarded  my  expressed  wishes. 
You  have  set  at  nought  my  ruling,  you  have  now  gone  beyond 
bounds.  I  decline  to  hear  more  from  you. " 

The  man  he  addressed,  one  of  the  leaders  of  the  circuit, 
whose  powerful  personality  had  long  been  a  terror  to  witnesses, 
who  had  dominated  the  bar,  and  was  accustomed  to  overbear 

[  329  3 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITT 

the  bench  itself,  drew  himself  up  with  a  gesture  of  astonish- 
ment, and  tossing  his  brief  to  his  junior  bounced  from  the 
court  snorting  his  protest. 

"Mr.  Temperley,  you  are  with  brother  Dawkins;  is  this 
your  case  ?"  The  question  fell  from  the  judge  in  quiet,  matter- 
of-fact  accents.  Men  smiled. 

The  junior  hurriedly  pleaded  for  an  adjournment,  which  the 
court  refusing,  he  collected  his  papers  and  followed  his  leader. 

There  was  a  minute's  silence  during  which  one  heard  the 
muffled  tones  of  the  Black  Judge  beyond  the  curtains  charging. 

Sir  Algernon  hemmed  with  the  clear  low  note  of  a  harp, 
"Gentlemen  of  the  jury,  the  circumstances,  if  something  un- 
usual, are  not,  as  I  venture  to  think,  unfavourable  to  the 
administration  of  justice.  And  I  wish  to  impress  upon  all 
who  hear  my  voice,  that  justice,  and  not  a  verdict  for  the 
Crown,  is  what  we  are  met  to  seek.  Counsel  for  the  prosecution 
having  thrown  up  their  briefs,  a  certain  rude  equality  is  gained 
by  the  case,  since  the  accused,  being  charged  with  murder,  is 
debarred  the  assistance  of  counsel. " 

(  This  was  news  to  me  and  seemed  monstrous  unfair,  but 
was  the  law  then  and  for  long  after.  ) 

"The  disability  under  which,  I  say,  the  accused  lies  is 
sufficiently  heavy,  but  in  this  instance  is  immeasurably  aggra- 
vated by  his  inability  to  put  into  the  box  two  witnesses  by 
whose  mouths  he  had  hoped  to  establish  his  alibi. 

These  persons,  who,  we  are  told,  are  ready  to  testify  that 
the  presence  of  the  accused  elsewhere  at  the  instant  of  the 
crime  made  his  participation  in  that  crime  a  physical  impossi- 
bility, are  Quakers,  whose  religious  convictions  forbid  them  to 
take  an  oath,  and  whose  testimony  is  therefore  legally  inad- 
missible. " 

The  judge  paused;  it  was  an  artifice  to  rivet  attention. 

"You,  gentlemen,  must  have  been  fortunate  in  your  experi- 


CHAPTER 


ence  of  courts  of  law  if  you  have  failed  to  notice  the  shame- 
ful levity  with  which  the  oath  is  too  commonly  taken. 

"  In  the  course  of  this  case  two  witnesses  for  the  Crown,  the 
brothers  Proctor"  —  (I  pricked  my  ears  )  —  "have  deposed 
circumstantially  to  petty  details  of  time  and  place  respecting  a 
casual  meeting  a  twelve-month  ago,  a  meeting  after  dark  ( if 
these  persons  are  to  be  believed  )  —  particulars,  which  must 
have  seemed  at  the  moment  wholly  unimportant;  and  when, 
as  you  probably  observed,  the  testimony  of  the  postmaster 
was  found  discrepant  from  that  of  the  constable,  the  witness 
promptly  changed  his  story  and  swore  with  equal  pertinacity 
to  his  amended  version. 

"  I  mention  this  point,  gentlemen,  out  of  place  (  for  I  must 
task  your  patience  by  reverting  to  it  in  my  charge  ),  to  shew 
you  how  little  weight  the  oath,  per  se,  should  have  with  you, 
the  oath  apart  from  the  character  of  the  witness. 

"But  here  we  have  two  persons  whose  sense  of  what  is  due 
to  the  majesty  of  God  is  such  that  they  refuse  to  take  His 
awful  name  upon  their  lips  even  to  save  the  life  of  their  friend. 

"They  say  (we  are  informed  ),  the  accused  was  their  guest 
from  the  thirtieth  of  September  to  the  tenth  of  October;  that 
he  spent  ten  days  and  nights  in  their  company  nursing  a  sick 
man,  and  was  never  absent  for  more  than  an  hour.  I  repeat 
that  they  say  this,  and  from  my  personal  experience  of  Quakers 
I  affirm  publicly  and  without  hesitation  that  I  believe  them. 

"  I  do  not  believe  that  these  persons  would  travel  two  hundred 
miles  to  tell  a  deliberate  lie  and  yet  shrink  from  backing  it 
with  an  oath. 

"  The  unsubstantiated  aspersions  upon  this  sect  which  pained 
our  ears  I  stigmatize  as  unjust  and  untrue.  They  were  not 
charged  in  the  opening  nor  supported  by  a  tittle  of  evidence; 
they  form  no  part  of  the  case  they  were  imported  to  prejudice. 
I  not  only  withdraw  them  from  your  consideration  but  put  to 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

you  the  direct  opposite.  The  loyalty  of  the  Quakers  has  never 
yet  been  compromised  or  impugned;  their  goodwill  to  the 
Throne  is  generally  recognized.  But  apart  from  this,  the  morals 
of  the  sect  will  bear  comparison  with  those  of  any  body  of  per- 
sons in  Britain. 

"  I  speak  what  I  know.  My  relations  with  the  Quakers  —  with 
the  Society  of  Friends,  as  they  prefer  to  be  called  —  having 
been  intimate  and  wholly  to  my  advantage,  and  I  will  not  hear 
them  wantonly  defamed.  I  have  ever  found  them  scrupulously 
truthful,  and  I  doubt  not  that  your  experience  bears  out  mine, 
and  that  you  also  know  them  for  a  people  whose  bare  word  we 
should  all  receive  outside  this  court,  but  whose  bare  word 
inside  this  court  the  law  compels  us  to  ignore. " 

The  great  man  paused,  watching,  as  it  seemed  to  me,  the 
effect  of  his  remarks  upon  the  jury. 

It  was  my  first  experience  of  oratory.  I  could  have  listened 
to  him  for  an  hour  without  fatigue,  the  sweet  precision  of  his 
balanced  periods  so  took  me.  No  doubt  it  was  the  voice,  he 
was  famed  for  his  voice,  but  each  word  seemed  to  fall  patly 
just  where  it  should. 

Presently,  as  satisfied  with  the  result,  he  turned  to  some- 
one whom  I  could  not  see  and  made  a  sign. 

I  had  by  this  grown  interested  in  what  was  going  forward, 
but  found  myself  (  as  a  late  comer  was  likely  enough  to  do  ) 
extremely  ill-placed  for  the  show.  Seated  low  at  the  back  of 
the  box  I  saw  little  beyond  the  wigs  of  those  in  front  of  me 
and  nothing  of  the  well  of  the  court. 

"Where  is  the  dock?"  I  asked  in  a  whisper,  and  found  it 
was  near  upon  my  right  hand,  but  so  arranged  that  until  the 
accused  rose  ( he  was  sitting )  the  occupant  was  invisible 
to  me. 

"What's  the  fellow's  name  ?"  said  I  behind  my  hand. " Hall- 
ivord,"  replied  my  neighbour  in  a  gruff  whisper  "the  judge's 

[332] 


CHAPTER  THIRTY -FIVE 


partiality  won't  save  him;  'tis  a  matter  of  identity,  and  they 
swear  to  his  mug,  sir;  swear  to  it  hard  and  fast." 

I  recalled  no  talk  of  any  Quaker  family  of  the  name.  The 
dates  were  landmarks  in  my  life;  it  was  impossible  to  forget 
where  I  lay  on  the  dates  mentioned. 

An  official,  whom  I  took  to  be  the  Clerk  of  Arraigns,  was 
upon  his  feet  addressing  someone. 

Then  a  plank  creaked,  and  every  face  turned  towards  a  man 
who  was  rising. 

"  My  lord  !  "  The  accents  thrilled  me  to  the  pit  of  my  stomach. 
I  knew  the  face;  I  knew  the  voice;  they  were  the  face  and  voice 
of  Abel  Ellwood. 

"  But  —  but  —  I  know  that  man !  What  has  he  to  do  with  it  ? " 
I  whispered  hurriedly  into  the  ear  of  my  unknown  neighbour. 
He  half-turned,  and  looked  me  over  askance  as  well  as  our 
proximity  and  the  gloom  of  the  box  permitted.  "I  am  sorry  to 
hear  ye  say  so,  sir.  That  is  the  prisoner." 

The  prisoner !  Abel  Ellwood  charged  with  murder!  The 
situation  was  too  absurd  for  words;  it  needed  a  huge  blast  of 
laughter  to  express  my  feelings;  an  inclination  which  grew 
upon  me  suddenly  to  the  verge  of  mastery,  taxing  to  the  utter- 
most my  self-control.  Was  I  crazy?  Had  that  bullet  crack- 
ed my  thick  skull  in  very  truth  ? 

Meanwhile,  my  wits  resettling,  the  opening  passages  of 
the  defence  reached  my  ears.  The  man  was  absolutely  himself, 
paler,  perhaps,  but  as  dryly  composed  in  his  self-command  as 
though  engaged  upon  his  daily  business.  What  he  had  passed 
through,  what  he  was  feeling,  those  who  knew  his  heart  might 
guess,  but  the  outer  mask  of  him  was  strangely  impassive. 

"Do  I  understand  I  have  thy  leave  to  speak  ?"  He  addressed 
the  judge,  and  awaited  the  consenting  sign.  "Then,  first  let 
me  thank  thee  for  thy  last  words;  those  as  to  the  Society  of 
Friends.  Whatever  may  be  the  issue  of  this  case,  and  I  know 

[333] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

that  my  life  is  in  higher  hands  than  thine,  or  those  of  the  jury, 
thy  plain  and  righteous  expressions  will  be  remembered.  They 
cannot  fail  to  bear  fruit.  I  thank  thee. "  He  paused.  "For  my- 
self," he  resumed,  "I  am  not  careful  to  dress  my  case  with 
artifice.  I  will  not  heap  together  words  where  the  evidence 
I  offer  is  refused  a  hearing.  The  two  witnesses  for  the  Crown 
who  have  sworn  to  my  presence  at  Maidenhead  Thicket  on 
the  evening  of  October  5th  are  mistaken;  honestly  mistaken. 
Neither  Colonel  Gunn "  (  I  started  )  "nor  Thomas  Doggett 
had  I  seen  before  the  day  of  my  committal.  That  they  were 
passengers  by  the  coach  that  was  stopped  is  probably  true, 
but  'twas  not  I  that  robbed  them.  Nor  until  I  passed  the  place 
in  custody  on  my  journey  hither  was  I  ever  nearer  to  the  scene 
of  the  crime  than  London. 

"My  witnesses,  those  whose  testimonies  have  been  received, 
have  spoken  to  my  leaving  Milton-on-Derwent  on  the  after- 
noon of  September  3Oth,  and  to  my  return  on  the  afternoon  of 
October  loth.  The  two  witnesses  whose  testimonies  are  re- 
fused, my  friends  Heber  and  Susanna  Moorhouse,  can  speak 
to  my  reaching  their  door  on  the  evening  of  the  former  date 
and  my  leaving  ten  days  later. 

"I  was  their  guest  during  those  days  and  nights.  My  horse 
stood  in  their  stable.  They  and  I  were  tied  closely  by  a  sick 
man  whom  we  were  nursing.  It  was  a  time  of  almost  constant 
rain.  No  one  came  in  to  us  that  they  or  I  can  remember;  cer- 
tainly no  one  came  upstairs.  Nor  did  I,  at  least,  have  occasion 
to  go  further  than  to  my  horse's  stall.  No  —  '  he  paused  and 
reflected,  "there  is  no  one  in  York  whom  I  could  call  in  evidence 
of  my  presence  there.  I  have  friends  and  acquaintances  in  the 
city,  customers  too,  but  their  knowledge  that  I  was  detained 
there  for  those  ten  days  was  gained,  I  find,  from  hearsay; 
they  know  it  now,  and  they  knew  it  indeed  shortly  after  my 
leaving,  but  they  did  not  know  it  at  the  time. 

[334] 


CHAPTER  THIRTY -FIVE 


"I  am  told  such  knowledge  is  not  evidence. 

"It  is  strange,  knowing  my  own  innocence  as  I  know  it, 
as  my  family  and  my  friends  know  it,  to  be  baffled  thus." 

The  speaker  made  a  longer  pause.  The  Red  Judge,  closely 
watching,  leaned  a  little  forward.  "I  must  not  cross-examine 
you.  Believe  me,  I  interpose  for  your  help;  you  have  spoken 
of  a  fourth  person,  a  sick  man,  whose  malady  detained  you 
within  doors  during  the  days  in  question.  Is  he  still  living? 
Is  he  also  a  member  of  your  Society  ?  Is  his  evidence  unavail- 
able?" 

"My  lord,  he  is  not  one  of  us  —  he  is  not  a  Friend.  His 
evidence  is  vital  to  me,  and  would  be  conclusive.  But  he  is 
travelling.  I  am  told  a  subpoena  has  followed  him  from  one 
address  to  another  for  weeks.  But  all  trace  of  his  present 
whereabouts  is  lost."  He  stopt.  "If  it  be  the  will  of  the 
Almighty,  I  must  submit  to  His  ordering. "  Again  his  voice 
ceased.  The  court  watched  and  waited. 

My  younger  relatives  will  hardly  need  to  be  told  that  I 
am  far  from  a  ready  man.  Various  incidents  in  these  memoirs 
will  have  shewn  this  infirmity;  and,  indeed,  men  of  my  inches 
are  seldom  instant  or  quick-witted 

For  some  moments  it  had  been  growing  upon  me  that  it  was 
I  that  was  wanted,  and  this  comprehension  had  set  me  upon 
needles  and  pins  to  learn  the  right  person  to  apprise  of  my 
presence. 

To  raise  my  voice  in  that  concourse,  I,  who  had  never  so 
much  as  opened  my  lips  in  public  —  the  thought  turned  me 
hot.  That  I  must  speak,  and  speak  at  once,  I  felt;  but  whom 
should  I  address,  how  begin  ?  I  declare  my  tongue  grew  dry  in 
my  mouth,  and  the  palms  of  my  hands  pricked  with  sweat. 

Should  I  speak  from  my  seat  or  rise  ?  Should  I  begin 
with  "My  lord,"  or  "  Your  worship,"  or  plain  "Sir  Algernon"  ? 
To  bounce  into  the  midst  like  a  jack-pudding  at  a  fair  with  his 

[335] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITT 

"Here  we  are  again!"  seemed  indecorous.  Presently  there  would 
surely  be  an  opening. 

And  now, .  after  a  pause,  Abel  was  speaking  again,  and 
when  he  spoke  it  was  in  a  changed  voice,  and  in  tones  that 
pierced  my  heart. 

"'Oh,  that  I  knew  where  I  might  find  him!' —  (might  find 
him!)  'Behold,  I  go  forward,  but  he  is  not  there' —  'and  back- 
ward, but  I  cannot  perceive  him!' — 'he  hideth  himself  from 
me!'"' 

His  voice,  monotonous  but  clear,  had  fallen,  and  fallen 
until  men  strained  their  ears;  now  he  flung  his  head  back  with 
a  gesture  unusual  to  him,  seeming  to  remember  himself  and  to 
desperately  rally  his  faith. 

"  'But  He  knoweth  the  way  that  I  take!  When  He  hath 
tried  me  I  shall  come  forth  as  gold.'  *  But  —  "(  his  tone  fell 
again  );  "but  I  have  prayed.  If  he  were  here  —  if  he —  my 
friend  were  here —  "  for  the  first  time  the  voice  shook,  his 
eyes  closed  tightly,  his  chin  sunk  upon  his  breast;  "if —  if  my 
friend  George  Fanshawe  were  here!" 

"But  I  AM  here!" 

They  say  my  shout  stopped  the  business  in  the  civil  court 
and  was  heard  across  the  Market-Place.  I  sprang  to  my  feet, 
my  eyes  stung  with  tears,  and,  wholly  forgetting  what  few  man- 
ners I  had  ever  learned,  made  straight  for  my  friend  across 
the  packed  grand-jury  box,  ploughing  through  cramped  knees, 
and  trampling  hats  and  toes  in  ruthless  sort,  aye,  and  if  Bob 
is  to  be  believed,  swearing  under  my  breath,  but  of  that  I  have 
no  recollection,  having  clean  forgotten  what  I  did  say,  and 
trusting  the  recording  angel  has  forgotten  it  also. 

1  Job  ixiii.  v.  2,  8.    I  doubt   if  ten  men  in  court  knew  whom  he  quoted,  or  that 
he  did  quote.     I  myself   did  not,  nor,  I  think,  did  you,  sir,  before  your  reading 
of  this  note.  —  G.  F. 

2  Job  xxiii.  T.  10. 

[336] 


CHAPTER  THIRTY-FIFE 


The  end  of  the  box  and  the  dock  were  contiguous,  divided  by  a 
barrier  and  rail.  As  I  reached  this,  they  tell  me,  with  blazing  face 
and  outstretched  hands,  Abel,  who  had  turned,  suddenly  whit- 
ened, swayed,  and  ere  the  turnkey  beside  him  could  interpose, 
fell  across  the  partition  upon  my  breast  in  a  dead  faint. 

What  I  should  have  done  I  know  not,  nor  have  ever  heard 
the  proper  routine,  or  form  of  legal  procedure  ordered  for  such 
an  occasion.  The  hot,  crowded  court  uttered,  they  tell  me,  a 
queer  painful  sound,  and  thereafter  dropt  upon  a  silence  and  a 
wondering  what  next.  But  of  this  I  knew  nothing;  all  I  wanted 
was  to  get  to  my  friend,  and  after  that  to  find  someone  to 
fight.  In  a  word,  I  was  in  that  congestion  of  the  emotions  from 
which  a  woman  finds  relief  in  weeping,  and  a  man  in  harsh 
laughter  and  muscular  action.  I  would  have  given  a  handsome 
sum  for  ten  minutes  outside  with  a  fellow  of  my  own  size  into 
whom  I  might  thump  a  little  Christian  charity.  This  judge-and- 
jury  business  was  too  maddeningly  stupid  when  it  came  to  put- 
ting Abel  (  think  of  it!  Abel!  )  on  trial  for  murder! 

Holding  the  slight,  small  body  thus  on  my  shoulder,  I  drove 
an  elbow  into  the  paunch  of  a  fat  court  cryer,  who  seemed  over 
busy,  or  with  too  little  to  do,  and  bade  him  fetch  a  mug  of  water. 

"Sir,  who  are  you  ?"  (  it  was  the  judge  ). 

"George  Fanshawe,  sir  —  my  lord,  I  would  say  —  George 
Fanshawe  of  Chorley,  at  your  service. " 

"How  come  ye  here,  sir?  or  rather,  why  have  ye  not  ap- 
peared to  your  subpoena  at  the  proper  time  ? " 

"Was  never  served,  Sir  Algernon  —  knew  nothing  of  all 
this  until  ten  minutes  ago.  But  wait  a  bit,  and  I'll  tell  ye  all 
about  it.  Now,  where  the  dickens  is  that  water  ? "  for  Abel  was 
coming  round,  tearing  himself  to  pieces  with  long,  hacking 
sobs,  the  hard,  terrible  giving  way  of  a  stern,  well-controlled 
man;  there  can  be  few  tortures  worse:  it  shakes  a  fellow  up 
for  days  after. 

[337] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

"There,  there,  old  fellow,  cheer  up!  Dammy,  we'll  lick 
*em  yet!  I'm  here!  lookye,  I'm  here!"  (  Bob  declares  I  used 
such  terms  as  these,  and,  what  was  most  wonderful,  the  judge 
sate  stone  pale  and  uttered  no  single  word  of  rebuke,  whilst  men 
in  court  gript  one  another's  hands  and  blew  noses.) 

From  my  new  position  my  view  was  of  the  best;  wherever 
my  eye  fell  I  recognized  some  remembered  face.  There  was  my 
good  old  colonel's  pippin  cheek,  puckered  with  delight;  there, 
too,  were  Parson  Sinclair  and  my  Lord  Mandeville,  ready 
with  testimony  to  Abel's  character,  had  the  verdict  gone  against 
him  —  (no  fear  o'  that  now,  thank  God!  )  And  there  was  the 
prisoner's  father,  with  both  hands  in  the  hands  of  Isaac  Pen- 
ington,  and  his  face  was  rapt  and  wonderful,  as  of  a  saint 
that  has  reached  heaven  straight  from  the  stake. 

"George,  this  will  never  do.  Put  me  down." 

Abel  had  regained  himself  with  a  wrench  and  a  dead  lift. 
He  stood  up  close-lipped  and  tottery,  more  ashamed  of  his 
weakness  than  most  men  are  of  sin. 

"You  may  leave  him  sir,"  said  the  judge,  and  bade  him  be 
seated.  "Now,  Mr.  Fanshawe,  do  we  understand  you  to  offer 
evidence  for  the  defence  ? " 

"  By  y'  ludship's  leave  I  beg  to  submit  the  case  for  the  defence 
is  closed.  Your  ludship  will  see  —  ' 

This  was  little  Temperley,  the  junior  counsel  for  the  Crown. 
Sir  Algernon  turned  upon  him  so  swiftly  that  the  bar  expected 
a  second  scene,  but  was  disappointed. 

"Must  I  remind  you,  once  more,  my  learned  brother,  that 
I  sit  here  to  administer  justice,  and  hold  it  no  part  of  my  duty 
to  help  counsel  to  snatch  a  verdict  upon  a  punctilio?  Here 
is  a  witness,  possibly  the  most  material  witness  of  all,  arrives 
an  hour  late,  and,  for  a  wonder,  unsummoned;  strolls  into  my 
court  as  a  sightseer,  by  chance,  if  I  take  him  correctly.  Our 
fathers  would  have  called  his  appearance  the  act  of  God. 

[338] 


CHAPTER  THIRTY-FIVE 


Let  that  be;  to  close  his  lips  would  be  the  act  of  the  devil, 
sir;  and  I'll  be  no  party  to  it.  For  the  matter  of  that,  Mr. 
Temperley,  what  do  you  here  ?  for  the  court  understood  you 
to  throw  up  your  brief  in  a  tiff. " 

"Oh,  my  lud  —  " 

"Well,  Mr.  Temperley,  'tis  your  first  case  in  my  court, 
as  I  think,  but  you  may  as  well  understand  that  I  am  not  to  be 
played  with,  and  will  put  up  with  the  whims  and  vapours  of 
neither  leader  nor  junior.  Whilst  counsel  hold  their  briefs, 
and  speak  to  them,  I'm  bound  to  hear  them,  but  once  thrown 
up  I  am  not." 

Mr.  Temperley  humbly  submitted  that  he  had  merely 
followed  his  chief  to  use  his  good  offices,  and  Sir  Algernon,  now 
mollified,  readmitted  him  to  his  position  in  the  case. 

"You  shall  cross-examine  the  man  when  he  has  given  his 
evidence.  Let  him  be  sworn.  Now,  Mr.  Fanshawe!" 

I  told  my  story,  the  judge  listening  with  silent  intentness, 
rarely  making  a  note. 

"And  you  make  oath  that  between  the  dates  you  have  given 
us  the  accused  was  your  companion  and  nurse,  by  day  and  by 
night,  with  brief  intermissions  ? " 

"I  do,  my  lord.  He  held  my  hand  for  hours  at  a  time.  He 
fed  me.  But  for  him  I  think  I  must  have  lost  my  reason, 
if  not  my  life." 

Mr.  Temperley  rose,  hitching  back  his  gown,  and  posturing 
with  hands  on  hips.  It  was  a  great  occasion  for  a  junior. 

"What  was  the  nature  of  your  illness  ?" 

"Fever,"  I  replied. 

"Brain-fever?" 

"No." 

"How  brought  on  ?" 

"  By  over-work,  and  lying  out  in  the  wet. " 

He  regarded  me  quizzically,  rubbing  the  side  of  his  nose. 

[339] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

"O-verwork  and  —  the  rest  of  it!  What  do  ye  mean,  sir?" 

"Well,  sleeping  rough,  then." 

"Sleep-ing  rough?  Do  you  wish  the  jury  to  believe  that 
ye  had  no  roof  over  you,  or  settled  abode  at  the  time  ?" 

"I  had  none  at  that  time." 

"And  that  ye  slept  anywhere  ?  beneath  a  hedge,  for  instance  ? " 

"Why,  seldom  so  rough  as  that;  'twas  lying  in  an  open 
shed  did  for  me. " 

He  flashed  a  look  of  intelligence  at  the  jury. 

"You  are  an  eccentrick,  Mr.  Fanshawe  ?" 
'Tis  the  first  time  I've  been  told  so." 

"No  fixed  abode.' You  slept  in  open  sheds!  For  how  long 
did  this  gypsified  fancy  possess  you,  sir?" 

"Possibly  three  months." 

"And  were  you  travelling  and  lodging  alone  or  in  company  ?" 
(  with  an  insinuating  droop  in  the  voice  ). 

"  I  was  with  a  party  of  Irish. " 

There  was  a  murmur  and  a  sensation  in  court.1  The  coun- 
sel, after  a  calculated  pause  to  allow  my  surprising  admissions 
to  produce  their  full  effect,  resumed: 

"And  what  was  the  Honourable  George  Fanshawe  doing 
whilst  travelling  the  country  for  three  months  and  sleeping 
rough  —  (  'sleeping  rough'  is  your  term  )  —  in  the  company 
of  a  party  of —  Irish  ?" 

"Harvesting." 

A  ripple  of  merriment  passed  over  the  court.  The  man's 
drift  had  been  obvious,  and  his  hopes  of  identifying  me  with 
some  Whiteboy  or  Jacobin  agent  were  plainly  dashed. 

One  bubble  pricked  he  blew  another.  Nodding  confidently 

1The  Hon.  George  Fanshawe  was  accustomed  to  say  that  it  was  impossible  for  us 
to  realise  the  hatred,  distrust  and  contempt  with  which  the  Irish  were  regarded  at  this 
time.  The  horrid  barbarities  (used  by  both  sides)  of  the  Rising  were  still  going 
on,  and  the  minds  of  Englishmen  were  daily  inflamed  against  their  unfortunate 
fellow-subjects  by  exaggerated  accounts  of  events  of  which  the  bare  truth  was 
sufficiently  sickening.  —  EXORS. 

[340] 


CHAPTER  THIRTY -FIFE 


to  the  jury  (  a  rather  lumpish  set,  to  my  thinking  ),  as  if  to 
say,  "Wait,  I'll  unmask  him  yet!"  he  began  again  with  affected 
deference,  having  perused  a  note  handed  up  to  him  from  his 
solicitor. 

"You  are,  as  I  think,  a  person  of  landed  estate,  Mr.  Fan- 
shawe?" 

"lam." 

"Kindly  mention  your  chief  properties. " 

I  did  so,  and  had  him  out  of  his  depth  from  the  first  word. 

"And  of  great  wealth  —  vast  wealth  —  may  I  take  it  ?" 

"Why,  possibly;  I  am  a  man  of  means. " 

"And  what  explanation  do  ye  offer  of  your  extraordinary 
doings,  your  eccentricities,  sir,  for  your  'sleeping  rough'  and 
'lying  wet'  for  months  on  end,  and  —  for  consorting  with  rebel 
Irishmen  ?" 

"  I  did  not  say  they  were  rebels. " 

"Do  not  fence,  sir!  ye  know  they  were  rebels!  Why  did  a 
person  of  your  birth  and  position  associate  with  these  mis- 
creants ? " 

"My  lord,"  said  I,  "I  am  here  to  tell  the  truth  and  the  whole 
truth,  but  not  to  have  colourable  statements  put  into  my  mouth. 
I  did  not,  I  never  have  abetted  rebels,  or  countenanced  rebellion. 
I  was  just  a  harvestman  at  the  time,  one  of  a  gang,  earning 
my  daily  bread  because  I  had  outrun  my  allowance." 

Sir  Algernon  nodded.  Temperley  was  at  me  again  like  a 
gamecock. 

"But,  ye  have  just  sworn  to  the  possession  of  landed  estates, 
Mr.  Fanshawe,  half-a-dozen  at  least,  and  to  wealth,  'vast 
wealth,'  Mr.  Fanshawe  ( that  is  your  name,  I  may  take  it  ?  ). 
Thank  you.  Well,  how  is  a  jury  of  plain  men  to  reconcile 
your  statements  ?  Abject  poverty  in  the  company  of  a  gang 
of  dirty  Irish,  snoring  o'  nights  beneath  a  hedge"  (  he  would 
have  that  hedge!),  "and 'vast  wealth'  and  as  many  landed 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALHY 

estates  as  ye  have  fingers  on  your  hand!  Come  now!  The  jury 
await  your  explanation,  sir!" 

"I  have  come  into  my  property  since.  A  year  ago  I  was  as 
poor  as  a  rook. " 

'  'As  poor  as  a  rook!  '  and  to-day  as  rich  as  a  <Jook?"  (  he 
got  his  laugh  ).  "And  in  affluent  circumstances  you  retain  your 
passion  for  travel  ? " 

"I  am  fond  of  moving  about." 

"Where  did  you  sleep  last  night  ?" 

"  At  Great  Bedwyn." 

"Thirty  miles,  I  think,  and  not  yet  noonl  You  travel  fast! 
Did  you  post  ? " 

"I    rode." 

"Alone?" 

"Alone." 

"That  is  great  work  for  one  horse,  sir  ? " 

I  nodded. 

"And  that  fever  affected  your  head  —  your  brain,  you  say  ?" 

"It  upset  me." 

"  It  affected  your  brain,  sir,  yes  or  no  ?" 

"No." 

"Will  you  swear  you  were  never  beside  yourself?" 

"I  do." 

"Nor  ever  deranged?  Nor  in  bedlam?  Nor  in  a  mad- 
house? Nor  in  a  strait-waistcoat?  Nor  under  restraint?" 

"Never  in  my  life!"  I  laughed  outright. 

"You  laugh,  sir!  but  this  may  prove  no  laughing  matter  for 
you.  Who  are  you,  sir?" 

"George  Fanshawe;  the  Honourable  George  Augustus 
Frederick  Chorley  Fanshawe,  second  son  of  the  late  Earl  of 
Blakenham  and  Bramford." 

"Do  you  swear  to  that?  Now,  have  a  care, sir!  the  punish- 
ment of  personation  —  of  perjury,  is  severe!" 

[342] 


CHAPTER  THIRTT-FirE 


"  I  am  —  the  person  —  I  claim  to  be. " 

He  turned  his  back  upon  me  with  a  gesture  of  contemptuous 
incredulity,  and  I  thought  his  manner  in  some  way  told  with  the 
jury.  It  behoved  me  to  stop  this,  and  I  was  cheered  to  observe 
my  good  colonel  making  signs  to  me.  So  there  was  a  man 
(  and  a  Crown  witness  )  who  would  swear  I  was  no  adven- 
turer. But  I  held  more  than  one  trump.  Again  I  made  appeal 
to  the  judge,  keenly  watchful  as  ever. 

"My  lord,  it  seems  my  identity  is  challenged.  I  am  lucky 
in  seeing  two  gentlemen  in  court  who  know  me.  Colonel  Gunn, 
there,  and  the  Honourable  Robert  Dawnay,  who  is  of  the 
grand  jury,  can  swear  to  me. " 

"That  is  so,"  said  Bob  rising,  "he  is  George  Fanshawe, 
right  enough." 

The  colonel  was  upon  his  feet,  we  caught  but  one  word, 
"pairfeckly,"  for  Temperley  was  too  wise  to  put  in  the  creden- 
tials of  a  witness  he  aimed  at  discrediting.  So  the  second 
bubble  was  burst. 

He  now  got  away  upon  a  fresh  scent. 

"From  your  account  of  yourself  you  seem  to  have  been  last 
year  a  young  gentleman  of  very  ill-regulated  life.  You  will 
admit  as  much  ?"  I  would  not. 

"And  pray  how  do  you  fix  the  day,  the  month  even,  on  which 
ye  fell  down  with  this  fever,  this  brain-fever  of  yours,  at  York  ? " 

"  'Twas  the  first  day  of  the  autumn  assizes;  but  I  can  get 
nearer  than  that,  for  hearing  the  Minster  strike  midnight  as  I 
lay  a-bed  I  asked  the  date  and  was  told  'twas  the  first  of 
October." 

"By  the  accused?" 

I  assented. 

"And  what  other  reason  have  ye  than  his  bare  word  ?  Had 
ye  an  almanack  ?  Or  did  ye  keep  a  calendar  ?  Or  write  up  a 
diary,  Mr.  Fanshawe?" 

[343] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

"Neither  one  nor  the  other,  but  ten  days  later,  on  the  day 
he  drove  with  me  from  York,  I  saw  the  carts  start  from  Whipma- 
whopmagate  with  the  criminals,  and  that  business,  as  I  know, 
comes  at  the  end  of  the  assize. " 

Sir  Algernon's  face  was  immovable,  but  his  eye  twinkled 
and  I  knew  I  had  made  my  point. 

"But  passing  from  these  trivialities,  which,  whether  real 
or  imaginary,  seem  wholly  immaterial,  and  may  very  well  be 
figments  of  your  brain-fever,  what  evidence  can  ye  give  the 
jury  that  you  were  —  in  —  York  —  at  —  the  time  ? " 

I  pondered. 

"Come  now,  Mr.  Fanshawe,  upon  your  own  shewing, ye 
have  recently  borne  two  very  discrepant  characters.  The 
Honourable  George  Fanshawe  of  Chorley,"  he  bowed,  "is  a 
personage  whose  goings  and  comings  are  known,  and  noted,  and 
remembered.  But  Fanshawe  the  tramping  labourer,  the  compan- 
ion of  Teague,  and  Paddy,  and  Shamus  beneath  a  hedge,  here 
to-day  and  gone  to-morrow,  keeping  no  diary  and  light-headed 
with  a  fever,  is  a  very  different  person,  and  may  have  imagined 
events  which  did  not  occur. 

"  Now,  sir,  can  you  point  to  one  reputable  person  who  can 
testify  upon  oath  that  he  saw  you  in  York  between  the  dates 
in  question?  One  person?  —  but  one,  now?" 

For  a  couple  of  breaths  I  was  wholly  taken  aback  and  saw 
no  way  to  satisfy  him.  Was  I  to  fail  after  all  ?  Did  the  judge 
doubt  me  ?  I  turned  to  the  bench  and  saw  my  answer  in  a 
flash. 

"Why,  yes,  sir,  I  can;  and  that  person  also,  by  the  greatest 
of  luck  in  the  world,  is  in  this  room.  I  refer  you  to  Sir  Algernon 
himself." 

"To  — his— ludship?" 

"Just  to  his  lordship;  none  other."  And  again  that  move- 
ment swept  the  benches  all  one  way  like  wind  among  the  wheat, 

[344] 


CHAPTER  THIRTY -FIVE 


"My  lord!"  said  I,  turning  to  the  red-robed  figure  beneath 
the  canopy,  "may  I  recall  to  ye  the  evening  of  the  last  day  of 
September  a  year  ago?  A  very  thick,  wet  fog  it  was  in  York; 
so  thick  that  there  were  no  carriages  about,  for  the  horses  would 
not  face  it.  Will  your  lordship  carry  your  mind  back  to  an  en- 
gagement you  had  for  that  night,  a  dinner  ( the  Lord  Mayor's 
feast,  as  I  think  it  must  have  been,  by  the  lights  at  the  Mansion 
House  ),  and  how  you  had  to  get  thither  afoot  between  two 
linkmen  from  your  lodging  in  Lendal  ?  Am  I  not  right  ?" 

"You  are  right  so  far,"  replied  the  judge;  "I  remember 
that  fog." 

"Then,  my  lord,  you  will  surely  remember  finding  a  man 
lying  upon  the  steps  of  your  lodging  —  a  man  who  had  just  tript 
and  fallen  over  the  horse-block,  and  upon  whom  you  a'most 
stumbled  as  you  left  your  door  —  " 

I  paused;  all  fear,  all  sense  of  stage-fright  was  passed;  I  was 
leaning  towards  the  judge,  having  forgot  his  great  dignity, 
and  addressing  him  just  as  man  to  man,  and  was  now  reading 
his  face,  that  marble  face  of  his,  and  springing  with  hope  at 
the  dawning  of  recognition  which  I  found  in  his  eyes. 

But  he  sate  there  like  a  stone  sphynx  and  said  nothing. 

"My  lord,  you  addressed  that  man  sharply  as  he  rose  — 
sharply,  I  say,  for  you  were  surprised  at  his  nearness  and  at 
his  being  there  at  all.  But  your  next  word  was  in  pity  for  his 
want.  You  offered  relief  and  —  you  were  rebuffed.  O,  my 
lord!  do  ye  not  remember?  Think,  Sir  Algernon!  so 
much  hangs  upon  it;  a  life,  an  innocent  life,  no  less.  I  was 
that  man  !  !  !  " 

The  silence  in  court  was  of  that  strained  sort  that  falls 
when  a  crowded  room  holds  its  breath  and  awaits  the  word. 

"I  do  remember  you.  Mr.  Temperley,  this  is  the  witness 
of  truth." 

The  room  breathed  again ;  I  heard  the  sound. 

[345] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

The  zealous  little  counsel  spread  his  hands  abroad  with 
the  gesture  of  despair.  "When  the  bench  itself  tenders  evidence 
I  can  but  bow,"  he  said,  and  bent  his  bewigged  head  to  the  in- 
evitable. "My  lud,  I  will  labour  this  cross-examination  no 
further.  The  astonishing  Mr.  Fanshawe,  who  has  sprung  him- 
self in  this  unexampled  fashion  upon  the  case  for  the  Crown, 
is  ^/-together  beyond  me!" 
/ 

And  now,  what  shall  I  say  ?  which  way  shall  I  turn  ?  If  this 
were  a  stage-play,  it  should  end  here.  One  of  my  young  relatives, 
more  deep  in  such  matters  than  I,  assures  me  that  this  scene  is 
a  natural  "curtain"  and  would  "bring  down  the  house. "Another, 
a  lady  this,  an  eager  devourer  of  the  fictions  of  the  "  Great 
Unknown,"1  would  have  me  wind  up  the  story  of  my  early  life 
at  this  point,  and,  as  she  puts  it,  take  a  pull  at  Pegasus; 
let  him  cool  down,  and  start  him  upon  another  day. 

It  is  but  fair  to  these  young  advisers  of  mine  to  say  that 
they  are  at  present  in  ignorance  of  the  sequel. 

For  this  was  neither  stage-play  nor  story-book,  nor  could  we, 
the  actors,  make  our  bows  to  a  huzzaing  pit  and  slip  off  by  the 
wings  to  supper  and  bed.  This  day,  surely  one  of  the  great  days 
of  my  life,  and  wondrous  enough  as  it  stood,  was  yet  but  half- 
spent.  Anti-climax  indeed  —  (  my  young  niece's  word,  this  )  — 
the  pendulum  had  swung  me  from  the  Bedwyn  "Jack  to  Reading 
Court  House,  from  the  serenity  of  ignorant  security  to  the  foot 
of  the  gibbet,  and  was  still  swinging,  from  the  cheers  of  Reading 
Market-Place  to  what  ?  I  was  to  know  before  night  and  all  too 
soon. 

In  the  meantime  there  was  indeed  some  sort  of  anti-climax  — 
(  my  niece's  word  again,  a  new  one  to  me  )  —  for  Sir  Algernon 
must  charge  the  jury,  and  these  must  consider  and  deliver  their 

*Now  known  to  be  the  imaginative  Mr.  Walter  Scott.  —  G.  F.  (Now  the  world- 
famous  Sir  Walter.  —  EXORS!) 

[346] 


CHAPTER  THIRTY-FIVE 


verdict,  a  foregone  conclusion  about  which  nobody  bothered 
his  head  overmuch,  and  these  details  are  dim  in  my  memory; 
for  at  the  moment  I  was  oppressed  by  a  sense  of  the  unreality 
of  it  all,  the  too-pat  opportuneness  of  the  way  in  which  things 
had  fallen  out.  This  unknown  town  with  its  crowd  of  well- ! 
known  faces,  whence,  and  at  whose  call,  had  they  sprung  upon ' 
me  ?  My  head  ached  heartily.  I  came  forth  from  the  gloomy 
stuffiness  of  that  Court  House  a  very  much  amazed  man.  The 
sense  of  coincidence  persisted  for  hours.  It  struck  me  as  like 
the  last  scene  in  some  ill-writ  comedy  wherein  all  the  cast  is 
brought  upon  the  stage  in  a  forced  contiguity. 

Yet,  save  in  one  particular,  there  was  nothing  to  justify 
surprise.  Everything,  as  you  will  have  seen  already,  was  strictly 
in  sequence  to  the  circumstances  of  the  case.  The  felony 
having  been  committed  at  Maidenhead  Thicket,  which  is  in 
Berkshire,  the  accused  must  stand  his  trial  at  the  county  town, 
Reading;  and  the  witnesses,  both  for  the  Crown  and  for  the  de- 
fence, must  be  there  too.  Sir  Algernon,  as  the  judge  riding  the 
Oxford  Circuit,  was  upon  the  Bench  as  a  matter  of  course, 
supported  by  the  grand  jury  of  the  county,  of  which  Bob 
Dawnay  was  one,  for  his  property  lay  at  Wokingham,  not  seven 
miles  away. 

Regarded  thus,  the  marvel  became  no  marvel  at  all,  each  man 
of  the  many  being  where  he  was  by  reason  of  his  duty,  or  of 
his  sympathy,  or  upon  compulsion  ( needs  must  where  a 
subpoena  drives  ).  It  was  my  own  appearance,  so  explicable 
to  myself,  that  was  the  miracle. 


[347] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A 

PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

CHAPTER   THIRTY-SIX 
AT  THE  "CATHARINE  WHEEL" 


VARIOUS  are  the  ways  in  which  men  will  celebrate  a 
notable  deliverance.  ; '  ^ 

Say  that  a  fellow  of  the  bagman  persuasion  be  run 
away  with  in  a  hackney  coach.  Whilst  the  wheels  are  spinning 
and  the  sparks  flying,  his  appeals  to  the  Deity  are  fervent 
enough,  yet,  when  the  vehicle  is  brought  to  a  stand  and  he  steps 
forth  unhurt  to  find  the  half  of  his  samples  missing  from  the  box, 
ten  to  one  his  first  word  shall  be,  "Well,  I'm  d  —  d!" 

Have  we  not  seen  a  great  city  express  its  gratitude  for  a 
victory  at  sea  by  four-and-twenty-hours  of  vulgar  horseplay  ? 
Millions  of  eyes  and  lips  were  turned  heavenwards,  I  grant  ye, 
yet  such  praises  as  escaped  them  must  needs  have  found  their 
way  to  God  through  intervening  quarts  of  ale  and  the  bottoms 
of  pewter  pots! 

For  my  own  part,  I'll  admit  I  was  joyful  enough  to  desire  to 
set  the  bells  a-ringing,  but  reflected  that  such  was  not  the 
way  of  the  Friends. 

Moreover,  my  hands  were  full  in  a  very  literal  sense.  The 
number  of  people,  strangers  to  me,  who  desired  to  give  me 
the  grasp  of  friendship  was  something  of  an  embarrassment, 
for  there  were  several  whom  I  did  know  and  whose  hands  I  de- 
sired to  take. 

[348] 


CHAPTER  rHIRTT-SIX 


During  the  adjournment  for  luncheon  which  followed  the 
verdict  of  acquittal,  I  was  fetched  into  Sir  Algernon's  presence 
and  very  courteously  received. 

Some  word  must  have  reached  him  as  to  the  manner  of  my 
coming  to  Reading,  for  he  desired  to  know  more  fully  from  my 
own  lips  what  little  I  could  tell.  From  his  bearing  more  than 
from  his  speech,  and  from  his  reference  to  certain  memoranda 
which  seemed  to  displease  him,  I  gathered  that  he  was  experi- 
encing a  sense  of  relief. 

Upon  my  dismissal  he  accompanied  me  to  the  door  of  the 
apartment  and  offered  me  his  hand.  "Cousin,"  said  he,  "I 
have  heard  that  of  you  which  I  am  now  convinced  is  false.  My 
old  friend,  Mr.  Sinclair,  assures  me  so.  I  incline  to  believe 
that,  under  God,  I  and  mine  are  your  debtors  for  this  mor- 
ning's work. 

"  Be  that  as  it  may,  I  desire  only  your  better  acquaintance. 
Our  inherited  disputes  have  divided  us  too  long.  May  I  hope 
to  see  ye  again  soon  ? " 

Escaping  thence  I  fell  into  the  arms  of  Colonel  Gunn,  with 
whose  importunate  hospitality  I  hardly  compromised  by  dint  of 
an  appointment  at  his  lodging. 

Dawnay  waylaid  me,  a  very  astonished  man,  willing  to  hear 
what  I  had  not  the  time  to  tell  him  —  these  memoirs  in  short, 
or  the  earlier  half  of  them.  The  dull  little  town  rang  with 
twenty  several  versions  of  the  match,  the  ride,  and  the  trial. 

But  my  heart  was  elsewhere.  There  is  at  the  outlet  from 
the  Market-Place/*nearest  to  the  Town  Hall,  a  little  old  inn 
called  the  Catharine  Wheel  and  it  was  there,  rather  for  its 
quietness  than  for  its  accommodation,  that  the  Ellwoods  and 
their  party  of  witnesses  were  housed.  Here  in  an  upper  room 
we  assembled,  and  our  manner  of  celebrating  the  occasion  will 
seem  to  you  the  most  singular  of  all. 

I  had  been  waited  for.  The  door  was  shut,  and  a  silence 

[349] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALirY 

fell  upon  the  circle  of  bowed  heads.  Three  —  five  —  seven 
minutes  followed  of  deep,  breathing  pause,  an  awaiting  the 
right  word,  an  expectancy  of  the  angel's  descent  that  should 
move  the  brimming  waters  of  our  spirits. 

Mandeville's  red  face  of  wonder  dwells  in  my  memory  still. 
Sinclair  understood  the  matter,  and  when  Isaac  Penington 
knelt  ( with  the  deliberation  and  unction  of  a  bishop  )  he 
and  we  all  arose. 

After  a  second  pause  my  dear  old  master  essayed  to  render 
his  thanks  to  his  Maker,  and  I  doubt  not  his  meaning  was  read 
above  and  the  intention  accepted.  To  us,  standing  mute  and 
breathless,  in  a  kind  of  painful  happiness,  such  words  as  forced 
their  way  were  near  unintelligible  unless  interpreted  by  the 
occasion. 

One  felt  them  as  one  feels  the  burden  of  a  voluntary. 

D'ye  ask  what  did  these  two  good  men  say  ?  Why,  if  I  could 
bring  myself  to  attempt  to  give  the  words  —  and  I  hold  it  a 
sort  of  petty  treason  to  my  friends  and  lese  majeste  to  my  God 
to  report  the  terms  of  their  interview  —  I  profess  I  should 
fail.  The  broken  sentences,  the  eloquent  pauses,  the  tremulous 
hand,  the  fluttering,  strained  eyelid,  all  pleaded,  and  were 
heard,  and  are  recorded  —  elsewhere. 

That  was  prayer. 

As  his  father  rose,  Abel  lifted  his  face  and  moved  around 
the  table  to  where  I  stood.  His  first  step  was  deliberate,  as 
if  taken  in  a  meeting-house,  but  it  was  with  a  rush  that  he 
reached  me,  caught  me  by  both  arms  above  the  elbows,  and  so 
stood.  I  felt  the  unconscious  potency  of  his  grasp,  looking 
down  upon  the  blanched,  working  face  and  tortured  lips  to 
which  words  could  not  come. 

So  we  stood  in  such  an  embarrassing  intimacy,  both  as  near 
to  the  breaking-down  as  needs  be,  until  "My  friend!"  said 
he,  and  never  another  syllable. 

[350] 


CHAPTER  THIRTT-SIX 


Then  I  knew  that  this  man  loved  me  for  myself,  and  not 
merely  (  as  I  had  fancied  )  as  his  trophy,  as  one  loves  the 
creature  one  has  saved  or  spent  one's  self  upon. 

And  with  that  the  meeting  "broke  up,"  as  Friends  say,  and 
conversation  became  general,  and  there  was  my  appearance 
upon  the  scene  to  be  explained,  whence  I  had  come,  and  how, 
to  eyes  that  hung  upon  every  word  with  unwinking  attention 
and  widened  with  sober  wonder. 

"Then  thou  didst  not  know  of  our  trouble  until  —  ?  " 

"Until  Abel  rose  in  court." 

"And  wast  brought  to  this  town  to-day  —  ?  " 

"By  a  run-away  horse.  He  pulled  up  at  his  stable.  They 
told  me  'twas  Reading.  I  suppose  it  is,  eh  ?  —  I  was  never  here 
before.  So  you  see  'twas  no  doing  of  mine.  I  disclaim  it,  sir. 
I  was  —  used. " 

"Yes;  thou  hast  been  used!"  said  Isaac  Penington  with 
luminous  eyes  that  seemed  to  know  so  much  more  of  me  than  I 
knew  of  myself. 

"Father,"  said  Abel  regaining  his  old  dry  manner,  "these 
friends  will  be  hungry,  thou  wilt  be  hungry,  and  I  am  hungry" 
(  with  his  first  smile  );  "let  me  see  what  the  people  of  the  house 
have  for  us.  Friend  Mandeville,  thou  wilt  join  us  ?" 

The  direct  simplicity  of  the  invitation  took  the  earl  aback. 
For  a  nobleman  to  break  bread  with  a  Quaker  miller  would  be  a 
thing  unheard  of,  albeit  he  had  travelled  two  hundred  miles  to 
uphold  that  man's  character.  Besides,  though  the  Ellwoods 
should  pass,  being  my  lord's  neighbours  and  illumined  by  the 
occasion,  there  were  this  quaint  old  fellow  Penington,  and  those 
pieshop-keeping  Moorhouses  to  be  digested;  I  say  Mande- 
ville was  visibly  nonplussed,  flushing  a  hotter  red  than  his 
jolly  cheeks  usually  wore. 

Parson  Sinclair  watched  him  with  twinkling  humour.  "No, 
no,  Mandeville!  there  are  no  covers  laid  for  us  at  the  Broad 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITT 

Face,  and  you  are  as  sharp-set  as  I  and  the  rest  of  us.  Come, 
man!  Yes,  Mr.  Abel,  yes!  and  many  thanks  for  your  hospi- 
tality." 

"Why,  assuredly,  if  we  shan't  be  in  your  way,"  blurted  my 
lord,  with  a  grateful  glance  at  his  friend.  "I  thought  'twas  a 
kind  of  family  party,  ye  see,  and  feared  to  intrude.  Heigh!" 
cried  he  later  when  the  great  jug  of  nut-brown  ale  had  gone 
round  and  a  cold  sirloin  made  way  for  a  peck  of  scarlet  cray- 
fish heaped  upon  a  pewter  charger,  "Heigh!  'tis  a  feast  for  a 
king!  Let  us  pity  Sir  Algernon!  I  picture  him  nibbling  French 
kickshaws  with  the  High  Sheriff,  hot  sherry  and  cold  soup,  and 
never  dreaming  of  such  dainties  as  ours.  Say,  Ellwood,  couldn't 
we  stock  Derwent  with  these  creatures  ?  They  are  mighty 
delicate  eating. " 

But  his  hosts'  thoughts  were  elsewhere.  "Ah!  father," 
said  Abel,  "if  mother  could  know —  mother  and  Phoebe!" 

"Aye,  lad,  thou  and  I  could  well  afford  to  spare  them  a 
portion  of  our  happiness;  they  must  bear  their  suspense  for 
how  many  hours  yet  ?  Our  letter  should  catch  the  night  mail 
north  out  of  London,  eh  ? " 

Mandeville's  jolly  face  wreathed  itself  with  smiles.  "By 
your  leave,  Ellwood,  I  have  seen  to  that,"  says  he,  and  rolling 
in  his  seat,  lugs  out  his  watch.  "Why,  yes,  as  I  reckon,  my  sec- 
ond horseman  will  be  nearing  High  Wycombe  by  this,  riding 
post  he  should  get  to  Hertford  before  dark  —  " 

"And  out-pace  the  mail?  Friend  Mandeville,  this  is  like 
thy  kind  heart!"  cried  the  father,  whilst  Abel's  face  shone. 

"Not  at  all,  my  dear  sirs,  I  can't  swallow  the  compliment  — 
don't  deserve  it,  God  knows.  Many's  the  time  I've  had  my  news 
of  a  fight  brought  me  so  half  the  length  of  England  —  spent 
a  mort  o'  money  on  my  fancies,  so  why  not  for  once,  eh  ?  O 
they  shall  know  the  news  betimes,  trust  little  Renshaw:  he  will 
bump  the  leather  as  long  as  he  can  see,  snore  all  night  in  a 


CHAPTER  THIRTT-SIX 


chaise,  and  ride  again  to-morrow.  Your  ladies  shall  hear  on't 
within  the  twenty-four  hours,  or  I'll  trounce  the  boy  for  his 
idleness  with  my  own  hand!" 

We  all  laughed  at  my  lord's  heartiness,  even  the  Moorhouses. 

"  The  bells  shall  sound  them  the  news  if  they  are  out  walk- 
ing," said  Sinclair;  "my  new  bells,  I  wrote  peremptorily:  a 
full  peal,  a  grandsire  peal,  of  triple-bob-majors,  is  my  order, 
and  the  new  ashlar  must  stand  it  the  best  way  it  can!  Ah,  you 
Quakers!  must  we  teach  you  how  to  rejoice  ?  It  shall  run  to  a 
tar-barrel  and  a  sheep  roasted  whole,  when  I  get  home. " 

"Nay,  let  us  call  it  a  fat  ox,  at  once,  and  at  my  expense!" 
said  I;  "and  I'd  knock  in  the  head  of  a  cask  of  October,  if  I 
thought  Abel  would  let  me. " 

But  my  friend's  hand  upon  my  shoulder  meant  denial.  "The 
poor  fellows  will  get  enough  of  that,  George,  without  aid  of 
thine." 

"A  good  offer  declined,  begad!  But  'tis  the  man's  day,  and 
we  must  just  let  him  have  his  way,  Fanshawe, "  laughed  my 
lord.  "What  beats  me,"  he  ran  on  inconsequently,  "is  the  way 
things  cogged  in.  There  was  a  second  master  stag  to  be  saved 
by  hard  riding"  —  he  lifted  his  tankard  and  bowed  to  Abel  — 
"  and  but  one  man  of  all  mankind  would  serve  his  turn,  and 
but  one  horse  of  all  horseflesh  to  cover  the  road;  and  here,  at 
the  very  nick,  the  man  and  the  horse  get  together  and  bring  the 
match  off!  I  say  it  beats  me. " 

He  looked  around  the  table  with  gravity.  "Sir,  Mr.  Abel," 
he  went  on,  big  with  an  unusual  thought,  "I  tell  ye  I  would 
have  you  at  my  side  if  ever  my  back  is  to  the  wall,  for  plainly 
there  is  that  about  ye  —  how  shall  I  say  ?  If  ye  were  another 
sort  of  man  we'd  call  it  the  devil's  own  luck  —  nay,  I  don't 
mean  that !  But,  it  seems  —  ha!  now  I  have  it!  When  you  are 
at  your  farthest  there's  another  steps  in  and  takes  the  matter  up, 
eh  ?"  Again  he  glanced  round  nodding. 

[353] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITT 

"  'This  is  the  Lord's  doing;  it  is  marvellous  in  our  eyes,'  ' 
said  Isaac  Penington. 

"Why,  yes  sir,  you  have  hit  it,"  assented  my  lord,  "And 
who  may  have  said  that  ?  —  Scripture,  is  it  ?  Ha,  then  there's  no 
more  to  be  said." 


[354] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A 

PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

CHAPTER  THIRTY-SEVEN 
WHAT  LAY  UNDER  THE  SHEET 


*«  f**\  EORGE,  thou  art  looking  pale;   is   the   room  too 

1     "W    hot  ? "   asked    my  old    master,  whom    nothing    es- 

^•^  caped,  "Did  thy  horse  fall?  The  plaister  seems 
fresh." 

"Just  a  passing  interview  by  the  way,  sir";  I  reached  down 
my  hat  and  shewed  the  bullet  holes,  "A  rough  salute  from 
a  gentleman  of  the  road.  Yes,  it  has  left  me  with  a  trifling 
headache,  no  more."  (  But  they  would  hear  it  all  again.)  "I 
protest  ye  would  make  me  vain  if  I  didn't  know  how  far  from 
a  hero  I  behaved:  'twas  'Hand  over!'  and  'bang!'  went  he, 
and  'whack! '  went  I,  both  together;  and  the  pair  of  us  knocked 
half  silly,  I  upon  my  horse's  neck  and  he  out  of  the  saddle, 
bump  upon  the  road.  All  done  in  a  trice!" 

They  sucked  in  their  breaths  with  the  same  sound,  every 
pair  of  eyes  at  the  table  rounding  with  wonder. 

Said  the  parson  who  sate  upon  my  right,  "This  was  close 
shooting;  there  is  powder-rash  upon  your  ear,  sir. " 

"You  struck  him  ?"  asked  Mandeville. 

"A  pretty  smart  crack,"  said  I,  "for  it  broke  my  whip- 
stock  —  yours  once,  my  lord. "  He  nodded. 

"Was  the  poor  man  hurt,  doost  think  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Moor- 
house,  a  solicitude  at  which  we  three  gentiles  forbore  to  smile. 

[355] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QJUALirY 

"An*  whaat  might  t'  laad  ha'  bin  loike?"  enquired  her 
husband,  breaking  silence  for  the  first  time. 

"I  cannot  say,  ma'am;  I  saw  no  more  of  him,  probably 
shaken,  no  worse.  Smallish  and  darkish,  sir,  I  got  but  a 
glimpse  of  him  —  such  another  as  Abel  here  —  "I  checked, 
the  sudden  change  in  my  friend's  face  warning  me;  no  man  can 
stand  where  he  had  stood  that  day  with  impunity.  "But, 
come,  that  is  done  with,  and  since  all  has  gone  so  swimmingly 
I  bear  the  rogue  no  ill-will. " 

Remarked  the  parson,  "The  villain  chose  his  man  and  his 
moment  badly.  Mr.  Fanshawe  was  upon  his  Master's  business, 
and  invulnerable  —  as  we  all  are  until  our  work  is  done. " 

Every  dog  has  his  day.  This  was  mine.  Never  had  my  future 
seemed  clearer.  Thoughts  of  my  little  mistress  hummed  soft 
and  warm  around  my  heart  as  hived  bees  just  before  sunrise. 
Surely  I  was  certain  of  her  now,  so  far  as  her  people's  consent 
could  ensure  me.  Ready  for  her,  I  was  not;  worthy,  I  could 
never  be.  "George,  you  great  thick-skulled  oaf,  you!"  ( I  was 
saying  to  myself),  "you  have  a  thumping  long  lesson  to  get  by 
rote  and  only  four  years  to  get  it  in,  aye,  and  much  to  do,  sir, 
before  you  dare  ask  that  sweet  thing  to  be  your  wife  —  (  your 
wife!)  You  have  things  to  do,  a  house  to  build,  for  one!"  There 
is  no  mansion  upon  my  chief  property,  and  I  had  thoughts  of  a 
fine  stone  hall  in  the  midst  of  Winteringhame  Chase,  not  far 
from  their  old  home,  Edge-Garth,  where  I  was  minded  to  have 
them  all  again,  with  Abel  for  my  stand-by,  adviser,  brother-in- 
arms ( I  could  not  think  of  him  as  steward  ). 

The  only  question  was,  when  should  I  speak  ? 

While  we  sate  thus,  each  happy  in  his  own  way,  or  in  watch- 
ing the  happiness  of  others,  there  came  a  knocking,  and  a 
constable  at  the  door  forme.  "George  Fanshawe,  sir,  ye  be 
summoned  to  the  Crowner's  Court  acrost  the  street  there,  and 
hurry  up,  sir,  for  the  job  is  on." 

[356] 


CHAPTER  THIRTr-SEfEN 


"May  I  go  with  thee,  George?  I've  had  little  exercise  of 
late,  thou  knows, "  said  Abel  rising; "  'Tis  not  for  long,  father. " 

"Lat  them  goa,"  said  Mrs.  Moorhouse;  "he  canna  abear  his 
friend  oot  o'  his  sight,  an'  no  wonder! " 

"A-abel's  a  good  laad,"  murmured  her  husband  as  I  closed 
the  door. 

Those  of  you  who  know  the  town  of  Reading  will  remember 
the  seven-arched  cloister  against  the  church  wall  on  the  north 
side  of  the  Market-Place.  Five  bays  are  open,  the  eastern  two 
enclosed,  and  within  these  the  inquest  was  being  held. 

Never  having  witnessed  one  of  these  gruesome  functions  I 
went  with  a  certain  interest  mixed  with  curiosity  as  to  my  con- 
nection with  it. 

Constables  guarded  the  gate  at  which  stood  a  blue  wagon. 
Within  the  building  a  pair  of  trestles  supported  a  shutter  upon 
which  lay  a  sheeted  human  form. 

The  business  seemed  half  over.  At  a  small  table  were  the 
coroner  and  his  clerk.  A  jury  of  burgesses  of  various  degrees 
sat  upon  forms,  all  sweating  and  impatient,  some  surly,  for  the 
panel  had  been  secured  by  holding  a  rope  across  the  street  and 
touching  down  the  first  dozen  passers-by 

There  stood  the  surgeon,  his  autopsy  made  and  explained, 
and  there  the  farmer  who  had  found  the  corpse  upon  the  road 
and  brought  it  in. 

"George  Fanshawe,  yer worship!"  announced  the  summoner, 
ushering  me  to  the  front. 

"Hey?  you  have  found  him?  This  saves  time,"  said  the 
coroner.  I  was  sworn.  "You,  sir,  d'ye  know  this?  "  It  was 
my  letter  to  J.  Smith  of  Lambourne.  I  said  so,  and  searching 
my  pockets,  found  and  handed  in  the  man's  reply.  Who  was  he  ? 
I  knew  not,  supposed  him  a  horse  dealer,  or  farmer;  we  had 
never  met. 

"We  get  a  name  to  him  and  no  farther,"  remarked  the  cor- 

[3571 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITT 

oner,  a  brisk,  irascible  lawyer,  who  interrupted  everyone  and 
did  all  the  talking. 

Abel  standing  close  behind  me  had  made  a  sudden  move- 
ment at  the  sight  of  the  letter  I  had  produced,  but  had  said 
nothing.  This  I  remembered  later. 

"I  thank  ye,  Mr.  What's-yer-name,  that's  all  I  want  of  ye. 
Your  letter  was  upon  the  deceased.  We  happened  to  hear  of  you 
being  in  the  town.  The  jury  will  now  view  the  body. " 

I  turned  to  go,  but  Abel,  his  arm  locked  in  mine,  did  not  move 
and  fixed  me  to  the  spot.  He  was  looking  more  ill  than  ever 
I  had  known  him,  but  plainly  meant  to  see  all  that  was  to  be 
seen  and  desired  my  company. 

The  sheet,  a  soiled  and  darned  affair,  showing  a  smear  of 
blood,  was  turned  back,  exposing  the  corpse  from  the  waist  up- 
wards. The  afternoon  sunshine  slanted  in  and  fell  pitilessly 
upon  the  trestle  showing  in  all  its  bareness  the  thing  that  lay 
there. 

What  I  saw  was  the  naked  body  of  a  young  man  of  maybe  my 
own  age,  or  somewhat  older,  small,  compact  and  muscular, 
the  tanned  face,  neck  and  hands  contrasting  strongly  with  the 
corpse-whiteness  of  the  trunk.  The  body  lay  upon  its  back 
with  no  sign  of  violence  visible  at  the  first  sight,  and  without 
marks  except  a  design  in  blue,  such  as  sailors  use,  worked  upon 
the  left  fore-arm,  a  foul  anchor  between  two  hearts  with  the 
initials  E.  B.  S. 

I  had  seen  enough  without  seeing  the  face,  and  wondered  at 
Abel's  interest.  The  arm  that  held  mine  began  to  shake:  still 
holding  me,  he  moved  forward  with  those  who  were  passing 
around  the  head  of  the  trestle  in  turn.  The  coroner  was  speak- 
ing in  crisp,  matter-of-fact  tones. 

"That  is  the  only  wound;  the  right  temple;  see?  This  is 
the  whip-handle  (  crop  is  perhaps  the  better  term  ),  which  was 
fixed  in  the  wound  when  the  body  was  found  (  you  heard  the 

[358] 


CHAPTER 


evidence  ).  The  surgeon  removed  it.  The  tine  lacerated  the 
brain.  Death,  judging  from  the  set  of  the  features,  must  have 
been  practically  instantaneous. 

"How  this  thing  came  there  we  have  no  evidence.  It  may 
well  have  been  an  accident  —  result  of  a  fall  —  his  own  whip  — 
er  —  Certainly,  sir,  —  but  ye  shouldn't  have  interrupted  me. " 
This  was  to  Mandeville  who  had  entered  behind  us  unperceived, 
and  had  signified  a  desire  to  examine  the  thing.  The  coroner 
recognized  my  lord's  quality  in  some  manner,  and  curbing  his 
impatience,  paused  in  his  summary.  Mandeville  held  the  horn 
between  thumb  and  finger  for  a  moment.  Returning  it  to  the 
clerk  with  a  bow,  he  stept  back  bestowing  upon  me  a  look 
which  I  did  not  understand. 

Moving  up  in  our  turn  Abel  and  I  had  reached  the  head  of 
the  trestle.  The  face  was  unknown  to  me,  though  dauntingly 
familiar.  Where  had  I  seen  it  before,  or  whom  did  it  resemble  ? 
The  cropt  black  head  was  dusty  from  the  highway,  the  features 
smirched,  but  not  disfigured;  the  eyes  half-open.  I  felt  no 
desire  to  look  twice,  and,  but  for  Abel's  grasp,  would  have  stept 
out  of  the  rank.  He  was  poring  intently,  his  rigid  white  face 
close  above  that  waxen  mask  of  death.  This  morbid  behaviour 
was  unlike  my  friend.  I  glanced  aside;  there  on  the  clerk's 
table  lay  —  my  whip-handle! 

There  was  no  possibility  of  mistake;  the  silver  collar  or 
ferule  shewed  its  chasing,  an  earl's  coronet  and  a  black-letter 
$$t  battered  and  worn  down,  but,  if  one  knew  what  was  there 
one  saw  what  was  there.  Mandeville's  glance  was  explained. 

Would  Abel  recognize  it  ?  He  had  often  handled  the  thing 
and  knew  its  story.  He  looked.  I  felt  the  pause,  the  quiver 
of  recognition  in  the  arm  still  fast  in  my  own.  And  then  that 
clasp  loosened,  he  straightened  himself,  released  me,  and 
passed  on.  We  left  the  place  together  as  the  jury  returned  a 
verdict  of  "  Found  Dead." 

[3591 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITT 

Mandeville  awaited  me  under  the  tavern  archway.  Abel  went 
within-doors  alone,  walking  slowly  as  a  man  in  a  day-dream. 
My  lord  watched  him  go  with  a  sidelong  glance  of  concern. 

"Our  man  is  somewhat  upset;  nerve  all  a-jangle,  and  noth- 
ing wonderful  in  that." 

But  there  was  another  whose  hands  were  shaking  and  who 
took  a  turn  up  the  yard  alone.  I  felt  my  lord's  eyes  between  my 
shoulder-blades  as  I  went,  and  encountered  them  at  my  turn- 
ing; he  had  something  to  say,  and  I  must  let  him  say  it. 
He  had  used  me  well.  My  mind  was  in  tumult,  or  rather, 
the  two  minds  of  me  were  at  odds,  this  exulting,  that  con- 
demning, and  behind  both  some  calmer  voice  re-stating  the 
bald,  accidental  fact. 

My  lord  just  then  was  of  the  earth,  earthy,  and  saw  nothing 
but  the  feat. 

We  had  an  old  head-keeper  at  Bramford,  who,  in  his  youth, 
had  served  a  Tollemache  of  Helmingham,  and  there,  whilst  on 
night  duty  in  the  park,  had  killed  a  deer-stealer  at  the  cudgels; 
himself  going  scarred  for  the  rest  of  his  days,  as  I  remember. 
Well,  that  old,  bloody  tussle  had  set  a  seal  of  distinction  upon 
the  man  for  life  in  the  eyes  of  his  fellow  yokels.  We  men  are 
made  so;  some  of  us:  Mandeville  for  one.  He  looked  me  up  and 
down  with  a  new  respect  in  his  regard. 

"Gad!  Fanshawe,  y've  an  arm!"  (  fingering  the  muscle, 
whistling  softly  ).  "And  I'd  have  sworn  my  old  crab-stock 
would  have  borne  any  usage!  A  back-hander,  ye  were  telling 
us  ?  .  .  .  So  ?  —  'twas  the  very  hell  of  a  swipe,  then,  and 
the  rogue's  nob  exactly  within  distance.  Ye  came  well  out  on't, 
by  the  Lord,  yes!  How  he  missed  ye  at  arm's  length  beats  me, 
for  y'are  no  cock-sparrow.  Depend  on't,  ye  ducked  as  ye  struck* 
or  the  thing  threw  high;  yet  a  man  of  his  profession  should  have 
known  his  weapon.  He  was  reputed  a  master  with  the  pistols.  *" 
I  stared.  He  ran  on.  "There  is  no  doubt  ye  saved  your  own 

[360] 


CHAPTER  THIRTY-SEWN 


life  and  his,  too,"  jerking  his  thumb  towards  the  door  Abel 
had  entered. 

"I  have  to  thank  you,  my  lord,  for  your  silence,"  said  I. 

He  laughed.  "Well,  I  judged  ye  would  have  it  so, 'least  said 
soonest  mended.'  Some  of  these  gentry  hunt  in  couples,  and  the 
survivor  has  been  known  to  bear  a  grudge.  You  take  me  ?  I  pre- 
sume you  will  waive  the  guineas  ?"  He  smiled  dryly. 

"Eh,  what  ?"  My  face  was  enough. 

"Man,  that  was  Sam  Smith.  Oh,  the  coroner  didn't  smoke  it. 
A  busy  fool;  if  he  had  had  half  an  inkling  he  would  have  made  a 
fine  pother,  adjourned  the  inquest  and  kept  you  and  me  kicking 
our  heels  here  for  a  couple  of  days  maybe  —  magnified  his 
office,  as  his  sort  delights  to  do  upon  occasion. " 

"But  —  Sam  Smith  ?  Are  you  sure  ?" 

"Cocksure.  Fills  the  bill  to  a  hair.  We  in  the  East  Riding 

O 

had  good  cause  to  study  his  points  last  year;  aye,  learned  to 
look  askew  at  every  little  dark  fellow,  and  got,  some  of  us  — 
these  Proctors  did  —  to  suspecting  and  laying  informations 
against  an  innocent  neighbour  who  looked  the  part.  In  fact 
we  made  it  so  hot  for  this  rogue  that  he  changed  his  country 
and  —  met  his  match! 

"How's  your  head  ?  What  say  you  to  a  turn  ?  The  beauties 
of  the  place  —  if  it  has  any  ?  You  will  ?  Come  along,  then. 
We'll  give  our  friends  the  slip  for  an  hour  or  two.  'Tis  a  kind- 
ness all  round.  Sinclair  can  stand  it  —  'tis  his  profession; 
but  —  for  myself,  now  —  a  little  o'  that  goes  a  long  way. " 

He  made  an  amusing  grimace  like  the  big  school  boy  he  was. 

"Not  that  I'd  have  'em  otherwise  —  like  myself  or  you, 
now  —  God  forbid!  I  prefer  'em  so,  and  would  go  far  to  uphold 
'em;  but  —  well  —  I've  a  weak  stomach  for  religion,  and  that's  a 
fact.  I  take  it  we  shall  live  the  longer,  man.  Mr.  Abel  there  is 
almost  too  good  for  this  world  —  and  ye  have  seen  that  it 
takes  a  sort  of  miracle  to  keep  him  in  it. " 

[361] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

So  rambling  on  he  treated  me  to  his  philosophy,  something 
to  my  amusement  and  more  to  his  own,  for  I  am  considered  a 
good  listener,  as  is  natural  to  a  man  with  much  to  learn  and 
nothing  to  teach. 

My  lord  was  suffering  from  an  over-secretion  of  energy,  and 
was  for  working  it  off  in  my  company.  Being  both  strangers  to 
the  place  and  indifferent  where  we  went  in  such  pleasant 
weather,  we  saw  some  miles  of  cobbled  streets,  tiled  gable-ends, 
quaint  middle-rows,  and  tiny  shops,  but  no  building  of  mark. 

They  do  say  that  Reading  once  owned  as  fine  an  abbey 
church  as  any  in  England,  a  royal  foundation,  planned  by  the 
master-builder  of  his  time.  They  say,  too,  that  what  the  wars 
left  of  this  treasure  was  picked  to  bits  by  the  townsfolk  for 
building  stone. 

My  comrade  was  killing  time  whilst  his  horses  rested.  The 
life  of  the  back-streets  diverted  him  for  an  hour,  the  shop-door 
gossips,  the  disputatious  neighbours:  — 

"Birth,  ma'am  ?  'e  ain't  never  had  none,  bein'  not  christened; 
'cos  why  ? "  the  reason  followed,  provoking  a  rejoinder  that 
filled  door-ways  and  windows  with  observant  heads,  hope- 
ful of  a  climax. "  'Tis  a  snake  in  sheep's  wool  ye  are, 
ma'am,"  etc. 

Each  worker  or  drone  of  this  sun-warmed  hive  lived  its  own 
life.  The  other  end  of  the  town  might  watch  the  scales  of 
justice,  tingle  with  anxieties  as  to  an  issue  involving  honour- 
able life  or  shameful  death;  here,  within  hail  of  it  all,  we 
squabbled,  kept  shop  incuriously. 

Mandeville  kept  the  middle  of  the  street  (  as  we  English 
do  abroad  ),  regarding  the  house-fronts  askance  as  one  glances 
at  a  nest  when  the  bird  is  on.  The  habits  of  the  lower  orders 
moved  his  wonder. 

"How  do  these  people  live?  Ah,  I  forgot,  you  have  tried  it. 
Queer  experiences;  must  hear  you  tell  'em.  I  say,  Sinclair 

[362] 


CHAPTER  THIRTY-SEWN 


and  I  start  early  to-morrow;  join  us  —  we've  room  —  and  help 
me  with  the  pheasants;  say  yes,  man!" 

But  I  was  thinking  out  my  next  move,  nor  needed  to  reply, 
for  a  knot  of  open-mouthed  listeners  outside  a  brewery  tap 
blocked  the  narrow  street  and  diverted  my  lord's  attention.  A 
man  of  the  easiest  temper  and  solicitous  only  to  know  all  that 
might  be  going,  he  forbore  to  push  by,  lending  a  tolerant  ear 
to  the  humours  of  the  show. 

A  burly  fellow  in  a  long  blue  riding-coat  was  holding  forth 
to  a  circle  of  cronies.  He  had  something  of  the  air  of  a  popular 
hero  in  low  life,  and  from  the  shine  and  redness  of  his  battered, 
hard-weather  visage,  had  been  kindly  entreated  by  his 
admirers. 

"  —  Thatcham,  'iss,  'twas  at  Thatcham  us  two  got  wind 
o'm.  Seen  'm  nigh-hand  the  old  school-house  this  side  (arly 
this  mornin'  'twas,  mind  that ).  Did  us  see  his  mug  ?  Now, 
what  d'ye  take  the  man  for  ?  No!  Sam  knows  a  thing  or  two,  and 
niver  gi's  us  a  smell  o'  the  sight  o's  phiz  'till  his  vizard  was  on. 
Lord!  how  'e  rid,  did  Sam,  so  soon  as  us  hallered!  Bill  in  there" 
( the  speaker  jerked  a  thumb  in  the  direction  of  a  shuttered 
room  across  the  street)  "clapt  in  the  persuaders  and  gets 
up  nigh  enough  to  'm  for  to  make  ready  to  fire;  but  Sam  'e  gets 
his  shot  in  first,  and  down  goes  pore  Bill  lump  on  the  'igh-road. 
I  ups  and  tries  a  long  shot  and  feels  pretty  sure  I  marked  um. 
Then  us  both  sets  down  for  to  ride,  ding-dong,  hell-for-leather. 
Ah!  yah!  we  made  the  pace  a  cracker,  I  tell  ye,  right  from 
Thatcham  village  to  Woolhampton  Angel.  Once  past  that  and 
just  afore  the  turn  down  to  Aldermaston,  thinks  I,  '  Us  be  near 
enough  to  try  agin/  but  Sam,  he  comes  to  the  same  inclusion, 
for  he  turns  in  his  saddle  and  puts  a  ball  into  my  mare's  off- 
knee,  and  down  ivt  come  and  off  goes  Sam.  But,  damn  his  eyes, 
I'll  nab  him  yet  and  touch  them  guineas;  you  see!" 

It  seemed  to  me  tnat  this  paladin  and  his  fellow  within-doors 

[363] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

must  be  the  couple  of  catchpolls  whom  I  had  passed  dismount- 
ed upon  the  road  that  morning. 

Somewhere  at  the  back  of  a  church  with  a  stumpy  spire  we 
decided  to  turn.  It  was  a  narrow  lane  of  the  staidest  respecta- 
bility. "This  will  do,"  said  Mandeville,  taking  an  alley  paved 
with  bricks  at  the  side  of  a  dull-looking  building,  apparently 
untenanted,  behind  which  the  passage  opened  upon  a  little  close 
or  grass-plot  overhung  by  limetrees  and  shut  in  by  crumbling 
walls  crested  with  spikes  of  wild  mignonette  and  draped  with 
ivy-leaved  toadflax,  plants  my  little  mistress  had  taught  me. 

The  place  wore  an  air  of  gentle  neglect,  neither  garden  nor 
wilderness.  The  uncut  grass  was  tall  and  white,  its  seed  long 
shed,  the  yellowing  leaves  whispered  over  it,  and  bees  went 
about  their  business  among  the  sunflowers  under  the  wall. 

Where  had  we  got  to  ?  Trespassing,  plainly.  From  behind  a 
yew  came  a  man  with  a  spade.  Wading  irresolutely  through  the 
high  grass  as  if  looking  for  something  lost,  he  presently  found  a 
spot  to  his  liking,  spat  upon  his  hands  and  broke  the  turf. 

At  the  sound  a  head  looked  over  the  wall.  "What,  Chawley, 
another  on  'em  ? " 

"Noa,  sir,  I  hear  tell  'tis  a  furriner;  an'  blame  short  no- 
tice, fur  'tis  wanted  fur  to-morrow,  think  o'  that!  Now  I  puts 
it  to  ye,  who'd  chuse  fur  to  be  a  sexton  ?  Folkses  be  that  thought- 
less!" 

Retracing  our  steps,  we  learned  from  a  lad  that  this  was  the 
Quakers'  burying-ground. 

"By  the  Lord,  we  might  have  known  it!"  cried  Mandeville; 
"  'tis  as  snug  a  bed  for  tired  limbs  as  you  shall  find  in  a  week's 
riding.  Think,  man,  of  all  the  sober,  gentle,  wise  old  bodies 
laid  away  here  this  hundred  year,  and  never  a  parson  —  (so 
Sinclair  tells  me  )  —  to  pray  over  'em  or  promise  'em  a  joyful 
resurrection.  It  sounds  heathenish,  yet  after  what  we've  seen 
to-day,  dammy  if  I  wouldn't  as  lief  take  my  chance  in  that  little 

[3641 


CHAPTER  THIRTr-SEfEN 


green  garden  as  in  the  best  consecrated  bit  of  ground  in  York- 
shire, aye,  in  Beverley  Minster.  What  say  you  ?" 

'  'Quakers'  grave-yard,'  "  said  I,  "it  spells  the  heart 
of  quiet.  Yes,  yes  —  green  grass  and  whispering  leaves 
sprung  from  —  well!  They've  lived  their  simple,  orderly 
lives  —  five  generations  of  them  or  so  —  as  separate  from 
the  folk  around  'em  in  speech  and  dress  as  so  many 
foreigners,  and  have  kept  their  severance  in  death,  for  here 
they  come  at  the  last  with  as  few  sins  on  'em  as  so  many 
school-girls. " 

"Don't  ye  believe  it,  man,"  cries  my  lord;  "half  of  them 
were  men  —  men,  sir,  aye,  and  the  other  half  were  women. 
Now  wherever  there  are  two  lads  and  a  lass  there's  the  raw 
stuff  of  a  tragedy,  and  where  there  are  two  lasses  and  a  lad 
there's  a  comedy  afoot,  whether  the  dresser  has  togged  the  cast 
as  Puritans  or  the  other  sort." 

I  shook  my  head.  "I  know  them.  There  are  men  lying  there 
who  never  struck  a  blow  in  all  their  lives,  or  swore  an  oath,  no, 
nor  their  fathers  before  them. " 

He  smiled  upon  me  with  tolerant  incredulity.  We  got  back  to 
the  Market-Place. 

The  Catharine  Wheel  was  in  a  state  of  subdued  excite- 
ment. Beneath  the  arch  a  little  knot  of  neighbours  conferred  with 
the  woman  of  the  house,  holding  their  aprons  before  their 
mouths,  an  action  which  signifies  mitigated  grief,  or  respect  for 
the  dead,  in  the  lower  class. 

"To  go  and  claim  it  —  the  corpse  of  a  puffic  stranger  — 
well,  I  never  did!" 

"What  I  sez  meself;  but  there!  It  saves  the  parish,  ma'am, 
that's  somethink.  So,  'e  comes  to  me  for  a  room,  does  Mr. 
Ellwood,  but  I  couldn't.  'You  can  'ave  the  lock-up  coach-house 
for  the  night,  sir,'  sez  I,'  but  I  can  not  have  it  into  the  'ouse  for  no 
money! ' 

[365] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITT 

Tattle  which  tickled  my  ear  and  lies  there  yet,  but  failed  at 
the  time  to  reach  a  preoccupied  mind. 

Full  of  my  new  resolve  I  passed  upstairs,  fully  intending 
to  open  my  heart  to  my  old  master,  and  put  my  fate  to  the  touch. 
The  child  had  seemed  so  near  to  me  all  that  afternoon.  The 
sight  of  those  flowers  had  touched  my  heart.  I  would  speak, 
tell  my  mind  at  least,  before  joining  Dawnay  at  the  Castle. 
(  Hymus  should  have  come  by  this.  ) 

The  corridor  was  dusk.  I  mistook  the  door  and  found  my- 
self in  a  darkened  room.  Some  one  was  there,  speaking  low;  the 
voice  was  the  voice  of  the  man  I  sought,  my  old  master's,  but 
touched  with  such  a  grief  as  I  had  never  conceived.  This  was 
not  the  sorrow  of  penitence  nor  disappointment,  of  baffled  love 
or  postponed  reconciliation.  It  was  the  sorrow  of  one  who  has  no 
hope,  and  whatever  stroke  had  stricken  my  poor  friend  I  felt 
was  remediless. 

"'O  my  son  Absalom!  my  son  —  my  son  Absalom!  Would 
God  I  had  died  for  thee,  O  Absalom,  my  son  —  my  son!  ' 

What  was  this  ?  A  cold  shiver  passed  down  my  spine.  What 
had  befallen  since  I  left  this  house  two  hours  since  ?  But  one 
calamity  that  I  could  think  of —  nay,  no  calamity  that  I  could 
think  of  would  account  for  such  despair  in  such  a  soul. 

The  death  of  Mrs.  Ellwood,  of  Abel,  of  Phoebe;  the  loss  of 
all  three  would,  as  I  felt,  have  bowed  him,  but  would  not 
have  broken  him  thus.  The  certainty  of  their  eternal  welfare, 
and  of  his  rejoining  them  in  his  Master's  presence  would  have 
upheld  him. 

"Who  is  it  ?"  he  asked,  hearing  the  latch  rise.  I  had  hoped 
to  retire  unnoticed.  "Is  it  thee  —  George  —  Fanshawe?" 
The  voice  was  dead;  the  last  word  grated  upon  his  tongue;  the 
address  was  unusual,  I  had  been  plain  George  hitherto. 

"Wouldst  thou  mind  closing  that  door?"  The  darkness 
shook  to  his  convulsive  tremors. 

[366] 


CHAPTER 


"Pardon  him,  O  most  Pitiful!  He  was  but  a  child,  a  very 
wilful  child;  what  are  twenty-four  little  short  years  to  the  endless 
ages  of  eternity  ?  Remit  —  if  it  may  be,  Thy  just  sentence, 
or  if  not,  blot  me,  I  pray  Thee,  out  of  the  Book  of  Life!" 

His  groaning  wrung  my  heart;  I  speculated  wildly  and  in 
vain,  but  not  for  long.  "This  is  self,"  said  he.  I  heard  him 
rise  from  his  knees;  he  remembered  my  presence.  "Let  us  find 
Abel." 

He  was  in  the  next  room  seated,  bent  over  the  fennel-pot 
on  the  hearth;  he  arose  at  our  entering.  "Hast  thou  told  him, 
father  ?  No,  do  not  try  thyself  further;  I  will  .  .  .  George, 
something  very,  very  sad,  very  terrible,  has  happened.  The 
poor  —  man  thou  —  encountered  on  the  road"  —  he  paused, 
I  met  his  eye  wondering  and  nodded  assent  —  "was  my 
brother." 

"Your  —  bro — Never!  Mandeville  says  he  was  Sam  Smith 
the  highwayman." 

"Samuel  Bevan  Ellwood  was  his  name.  He  was  my  son  — 
my  son,"  murmured  the  father,  "cut  off  in  his  sins.  I  must  not 
pray  for  him.  'As  the  tree  falls.'  Ah-h!  .  .  .  'God  is  not 
mocked.  .  .  .  As  a  man  sows.  .  .  .'  Howl  loved  him! 
What  a  bright  little  boy  he  was!  My  God!  .  .  .  His  poor 
mother!  and  now,  'Where  their  worm  dieth  not  and  the  fire  is  not 
quenched.'  "  The  thought  tortured  him,  would  torture  whilst 
life  and  reason  remained  to  him.  He  bent  over  the  table  sup- 
ported upon  his  hands  in  a  misery  too  exquisite  for  outward 
expression. 

I  could  not  bear  it  thus.  "Oh  sir,  depend  on't,  the  Lord 
will  not  be  hard  on  him.  If  you  love  him  still,  so  does  He,  and 
will  make  allowance.  Perhaps  he  had  no  chance." 

"Every  chance.  I  will  not  reproach  my  Creator.  I  am  not 
complaining,  Abel;  really  I  am  not!  'Shall  mortal  man  be 
more  just  than  his  Maker,  shall  not  the  Judge  of  all  the  earth 

[367] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

do  right?'  .  .  .  But — but  it  is  too  terrible,"  his  faith 
flickered.  "All  I  have  feared  has  befallen.  The  worst,  the  very 
worst!" 

"But,  sir,"  I  urged,  "he  might  —  he  might  have  been  taken 
and  —  and  hanged  —  " 

"And  saved  at  the  last, 'though  as  by  fire,'  but  now —  " 

I  had  spoken  in  haste  and  warmly,  to  mitigate  if  I  might 
the  poignancy  of  their  grief,  and  perhaps,  too,  to  keep  myself 
from  thinking  of  my  own.  I  was  fighting  this  off  with  blind 
hands  like  a  sinking  man  who  knows  it  is  all  in  vain,  and  when 
silence  fell  my  heartache  grew  almost  insupportable.  The  re- 
membrance of  the  words  I  had  been  conning  as  I  came  up  the 
stairs,  the  phrase  I  had  decided  to  open  the  matter  with,  near 
overcame  me.  I  could  have  gone  forth  into  the  corridor  and 
cursed  my  luck  like  any  trooper. 

From  this  descent  and  black  selfishness  I  was  saved  by  the 
sight  of  my  friends'  imperious  anguish.  I  understood  it  all.  The 
ravelled  skein  I  had  touched  once  and  again  lay  distinct;  the  black 
thread  twined  and  knotted  within  I  followed  to  its  fracture. 

What  remained  for  me  to  say  ?  There  was  nothing  I  could 
say.  On  their  parts,  both  these  sorely-tried  men  refrained  from 
word  or  sign  which  might  wound.  That  such  would  have  been 
harsh,  unjust,  unchristian,  goes  for  nought.  Are  the  good  al- 
ways fair,  kind,  and  well-balanced  when  in  the  grip  of  extremity  ? 
My  friends  were,  yet  was  there  one  thing  which  it  seemed  they 
could  not  do.  Nor  could  I. 

As  we  stood,  the  narrow  space  between  us  might  have  been 
covered  in  a  stride.  It  was  not  to  be  passed;  it  was  a  chasm  such 
as  I  have  heard  tell  of  in  mountain  lands,  across  which  men  may 
exchange  looks  and  even  words,  but  touch  hands  —  never. 

I  know  not  if  the  thought  were  in  their  hearts  that  was  in 
mine.  The  hand  that  had  spilt  the  life  of  the  son  and  twin 
brother  could  never  again  rest  in  theirs. 

[368] 


CHAPTER  rHIRTT-SEFEN 


The  hour  was  a  bad  one  for  me.  Across  that  chasm,  widen- 
ing fast,  I  seemed  to  see  the  sorrowing  face  of  my  little  mis- 
tress, never  to  be  mine,  growing  fainter  and  more  distant,  and  to 
hear  her  "  O  George,  dear  George!  how  could  thee  do  it  ?"  I 
knew  I  had  lost  her  forever,  and  could  never  say  to  her  father 
the  word  I  had  come  to  say. 

The  chasm  widened,  was  growing  beneath  my  eyes:  the 
bottom  of  things  seemed  a-falling  out  (  as  had  happened  once 
before  in  my  life  ) ;  I  shook  at  the  prospect. 

Abel's  face  there,  so  near  and  yet  so  inaccessible,  awoke  in  me 
a  kind  of  blind  resentment.  There  was  this  silent,  wooden  fel- 
low, this  clock-work  automaton  driven  by  a  spring  called  duty, 
who  never  —  so  far  as  I  could  see  —  gave  a  passing  look  to  a 
pretty  girl,  or  entertained  a  naughty  thought;  there  was  he,  I 
say,  wrung  with  real  downright  grief  for  a  vicious  rascal  who 
had  stolen  his  clothes,  abused  his  good  name,  personated  him  a 
hundred  times,  put  him  within  reach  of  the  hangman! 

That  the  rascal  was  his  brother  went  for  little  (  in  my 
mind  );  they  had  hardly  met  since  their  school-days,  and  held 
not  a  thought  or  a  wish  in  common.  Their  stand-point  as  boys 
might  have  been  the  same  and  broad  enough,  but  that  poor 
dead  thief's  malpractices  and  way  of  life  had  been  breaking 
that  basis  away  for  years  past,  it  had  dwindled  to  a  very  pin- 
point; compared  to  it  my  community  with  Blakenham,  say, 
was  mile-broad,  yet  we  had  found  that  all  too  narrow  a  base 
for  friendship.  Why,  as  I  live,  until  I  had  been  able  to  do  my 
lord  a  service  and  so  found  out  his  better  parts,  I  swear  I'd 
have  learned  of  his  death  with  a  casual  "God  bless  me!"  Yet  we 
had  never  fallen  out  beyond  bounds,  and  were  reckoned  fairly 
good-hearted  fellows  in  our  way. 

It  beat  me,  it  beats  me  still.  These  were  twins,  you'll  say, 
and  there's  no  more  to  be  said  about  it. 

Our  eyes  met  and  met  again,  but  though  upon  the  edge  of 

1369] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

speech  he  did  not  speak.  So  stands  some  poor  girl  before  the 
man  who  has  betrayed  her,  drawn  to  him  by  half  her  nature, 
repelling  him  with  half.  A  word  would  have  turned  the  balance, 
but  I  had  no  word  to  say.  Bewildered  by  this  unexpected  blow 
and  full  of  pity  for  all  concerned,  myself  included,  I  bowed 
my  head  and  made  for  the  door. 

"Don't  go  like  this;  we  don't  part  here,  George,"  said  my 
master.  "Thou  finds  us  in  bitter  distress,  but  through  no  fault 
of  thine.  An  inch  more  or  less,  the  veriest  accident,  nay,  but 
for  God's  finger  thou  wouldst  have  lain  dead  on  the  road,  and 
Abel  been  left  for  execution.  It  is  the  will  of  the  Almighty,  in- 
scrutable, terrible,"  his  mind  fell  back  again  shuddering  and 
lacerated  from  contact  with  the  iron  fact. 

He  rallied  after  a  pause.  The  world  would  go  on;  he  had  his 
duties  to  perform;  courtesy  demanded  something  from  him 
though  a  son  lay  dead  below. 

"  But  thou  hadst  something  to  tell  us. " 

Now  it  was  I  that  was  at  fault;  but  a  minute  before  I  had 
come  picking  my  steps  upstairs  as  brimful  of  warm  hopes  and 
honest  love  as  any  young  fellow  in  the  three  kingdoms,  and 
now,  my  God!  the  thing  was  done  with,  not  to  be  thought  of. 

There  were  few  farewells;  some  hard  hand-grips;  so  you  see 
things  were  not  so  bad  as  I  had  feared,  I  had  not  utterly  lost 
touch  with  these  men;  father  and  son,  they  would  come  again 
in  time,  to  a  point,  if  never  quite  to  the  old  unreserved  freedom. 
Well,  it  should  be  my  part  to  strive  for  that  later. 

I  got  myself  from  that  room  and  felt  my  way  down  the  stair 
in  the  mood  for  any  mischief.  Sick  with  playing  shuttle  to  the 
webs  of  others,  tossed  back  and  forth  without  resting-place  or 
prospect,  I  was  minded  to  take  things  into  my  own  hands  and 
see  a  little  life. 

Moodily  pacing  a  narrow  row  on  my  way  to  the  Castle  or 
elsewhere,  for  in  truth  I  was  ready  for  anything  or  any  company 

[370] 


CHAPTER  THIRTT-SErEN 


that  would  save  me  from  my  own,  I  encountered  old  Penington. 

"My  friend,  where  art  thou  going?"  says  he,  with  the  plain 
directness  which  gets  to  the  heart  of  a  matter  better  than 
finesse. 

"To  the  devil!"  I  rapped.  He  turned  and  walked  beside  me 
in  silence,  I  also  silent.  Under  such  escort  I  was  like  to  come  to 
little  harm,  and  smiling  sourly  to  think  of  the  figure  I  must  be 
cutting,  reached  my  inn  without  another  word. 

Under  the  cedar  that  stands  before  it  my  companion  stopt 
and  offered  me  his  hand.  "I  have  no  light  upon  thy  path,  my 
friend,  but  of  this  I  am  well  assured,  that  He  who  hath  used 
thee  hath  still  a  use  for  thee.  Farewell. " 


[37i] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A 

PERSON  OF  QUALITY 


CHAPTER  THIRTY-EIGHT 
THE   CUP   RUNS   OVER 


FOR  a  wounded  spirit  there  is  no  anodyne  like  work. 
To  sit  with  empty  hands,  to  brood  upon  my  luck 
with  gloomy  self-pity,  would  have  been  —  the  devil. 
This,  by  the  mercy  of  God,  I  had  the  sense  to  see,  and  having 
seen,  the  determination  to  act  upon. 

That  winter  I  hunted,  not  immoderately,  as  I  thought  at 
the  time;  yet  a  doubt  assails  me  since  that  I  rode  like  a  man 
whom  the  fiend  is  riding.  Years  after,  they  tell  me,  I  lived  in 
the  memory  of  the  Riccol  and  Wardby  Hunt  as  "that  mad 
Fanshawe." 

Rigorously  limiting  myself  to  three  days'  sport  a  week,  the 
other  three  working  days  were  spent  in  overseeing  my  estates. 
It  was  a  case  for  the  master's  eye.  Mine  was  pained;  I  found 
everywhere  a  need  for  leadership;  a  brutal  scramble  for  the 
good  things  of  life,  and  a  resolute  kicking  away  of  the  ladder 
by  which  success  had  risen. 

I  will  not  pretend  that  at  the  time  I  should  have  put  it  thus; 
my  untrained  eye  saw  only  that  all  was  wrong,  but  discerned 
neither  cause  nor  remedy. 

Here  were  thousands  of  acres  on  which  no  owner  had  resid- 
ed for  forty  years :  estates  ( all  mine )  lying  cheek  by 
jowl  where  the  whims  of  quarrelling  bailiff's  were  law.  Up  to 

[372] 


CHAPTER  THIRTT-EIGHT 


this  fence  the  fox  was  sacred,  beyond  he  ventured  at  his  peril 
whilst  on  this  other  manor  the  head  of  game  impoverished  my 
tenants  yet  brought  me  no  return.  I  had  found  man-traps 
specially  designed  to  break  the  shin-bones  of  my  labourers; 
shards  of  glass  laid  down  in  my  trout  streams;  spring-guns  in 
my  coverts;  and  these  devilries  (  as  my  newly-opened  eyes  dis- 
covered them  to  be  )  planned  wholly  for  the  sport  or  privy 
gains  of  some  jack-in-office. 

My  lands  were  farmed  with  an  eye  to  the  beasts,  but  what 
of  my  men  ?  My  guides  had  stared  the  surly  disapproval  they 
durst  not  express,  when  I  had  poked  my  head  into  my  wretched 
hovels.  It  would  seem  that  to  look  kindly  at  a  labouring  man 
was  impolitic,  to  address  him  civilly  was  like  to  turn  his  head, 
whilst  to  ask  if  his  roof  leaked  or  his  chimney  drew  smacked  of 
Jacobinism  and  a  setting  of  class  against  class. 

"They  must  be  kep'  down,  squire,  damn  'em!  once  ye  lats 
they  get  sassy  and  'tis  all  up  wi'  you  and  me."  Such  was  the 
advice  tendered  me  by  one  of  my  oldest  tenants,  a  red-nosed 
true-blue  in  top-boots,  his  flowered  waistcoat  covering  a 
paunch  like  Toby  Philpot's  on  a  brown  jug. 

I  had  visited  a  dozen  parishes  of  mine  where  for  half  a 
century  no  dissenter  had  been  allowed  to  hold  land;  where 
Methodists  worshipped  in  a  sourly-tolerated  privacy,  their 
ministers  having  sat  in  the  stocks  as  rogues  and  vagabonds 
for  preaching  on  the  village  green. 

Thus  was  I  put  to  thinking  for  others,  whilst  for  myself 
I  chanced  upon  sly  doings,  a  fall  of  summer-cut  oak,  unau- 
thorized by  Biddulph,  for  which,  but  for  my  discovery  of  the 
fraud,  no  account  would  have  been  rendered. 

"A  man  I  must  have  —  a  man,  not  a  lawyer  in  London, 
but  a  head,  a  hand,  and,  above  all  else,  a  heart;  and  all  three 
upon  the  spot,"  said  I  at  last;  "and  just  such  a  man  do  I 
know,  but  —  will  Abel  come  ? " 

[373] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

My  great  uncle's  movements  during  the  six  years  succeeding 
the  events  set  down  in  the  last  paragraph  are  not  certainly  known, 
He  kept  no  diaries,  and  materials  for  a  connected  narrative 
do  not  exist.  He  seems  to  have  travelled  much,  chiefly  within  the 
limits  of  the  British  Isles,  the  Continent  being  difficult  of  access 
at  the  time  and  inhospitable  to  our  countrymen. 

Two  visits  to  Sweden  he  certainly  paid,  and  several  to  the 
extreme  north  of  Scotland. 

The  following  fragment  of  memoir  covers  a  part  of  the  autumn 
of  1805. 

The  introductory  sheets  of  the  brst  portion  have  been  lost; 
it  begins  disconnectedly. 

.  .  .  outridden  my  servant,  who  had  posted  from  Hull 
with  my  valises. 

The  weather  being  a  St.  Martin's  summer,  cool  and  delicate, 
I  have  seldom  enjoyed  travelling  more  than  on  this  occasion. 

Twenty  miles  short  of  my  destination  I  must  pass  through 
Norton  Coldridge.  It  was  market-day,  and  the  business  being 
as  good  as  over,  the  pitched  sacks  were  being  removed  from 
the  cross  by  lean  and  ragged  carters,  and  the  cattle  sorted 
by  drovers  as  hungry  and  hopeless. 

I  had  some  recollection  of  holding  property  in  the  place, 
and  supposing  the  Charley  drmstobe  one  of  my  houses,  stayed 
to  bait  and  refresh  myself. 

"The  house  is  very  full,  sir,"  said  the  landlord,  regarding 
me  with  some  concern.  "We  have  no  private  room  available 
to-day.  The  'House  o'  Commons'  is  roughish  for  your  wor- 
ship's quality,  but  there's  the  'House  of  Lords'  upstairs  if  ye 
don't  mind  a  little  liquor  and  smoke.  May  we  lay  for  ye  there  ?" 

The  room  was  large  if  somewhat  low  in  the  ceiling,  and  I 
too  old  a  traveller  to  be  put  from  my  victuals  by  tobacco  or 
uncongenial  company. 

[374] 


CHAPTER  THIRTT-EIGHT 


At  the  round  table  near  the  hearth  a  party  of  six  were  sitting 
over  their  wine,  men  of  a  stamp  that  was  new  to  me,  a  class 
farther  removed  from  ours  than  from  the  smock-frocked  boors 
bickering  over  their  spirits  and  pipes  in  the  room  beneath. 
These  would  be  the  new  gentlemen  farmers,  I  supposed. 
There  might  have  been  a  small  squire  among  them  whose  father 
had  never  reckoned  himself  ought  but  a  yeoman  or  signed 
save  with  a  cross. 

These  persons  sprawled  in  unconventional  postures  very 
much  at  their  ease,  hand  in  fob  and  with  vest  largely  un- 
buttoned, whiffing  in  a  surly  silence  or  all  speaking  together 
more  and  more  loudly,  enforcing  their  remarks  with  gestures 
of  the  clenched  fist.  Yet  it  was  plain  they  were  not  quarrel- 
ling; these  were  the  manners  of  men  supreme  upon  their  own 
lands  and  wholly  unused  to  contradiction. 

Their  fine  clothes  seemed  hardly  to  fit  the  wearers.  The 
untended  condition  of  their  hands  was  perceptible  even  from 
where  I  sat.  They  hawked  and  spat  with  the  rustical  freedom 
of  men  accustomed  from  youth  to  brick  floors. 

Said  one:  "There  were  talk  o'  peace  at  the  covert-side 
yesterday.  Squire  seemed  to  make  out  the  French  was  getting 
sick  on't."  This  view  was  scouted  loudly  by  the  company  at 
large.  To  talk — merely  to  talk  of  such  an  anti-climax — • 
showed  an  unpatriotic  spirit. 

'Twas  a  flam,  neighbour  Ball.  Squire  was  making  a  fool 
on  ye.  Peace!  what  wants  we  wi'  peace?  War,  sir;  a  good 
war!  Come,  now,  I  give  ye  a  toast: 'A  bloody  war  and  a  bad 
harvest!'  " 

The  sentiment  was  drunk  with  enthusiasm,  with  such  vigour 
indeed  as  to  rouse  a  sleeping  toper  who  raised  a  purple  face 
from  the  table  to  inform  the  room  that  he  had  heard  "as  Boney 
had  crossed  the  Alps  —  crossed  'em  in  an  open  boat";  "but," 
added  the  creature  with  conviction,  "  'tis  a  lie,  my  boys,  and  I 

[3751 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  Q,UALITT 

for  one  will  ne'er  believe  it:  a  shall  never  land  in  old  Cheshire, 
not  while  wheat's  at  ninety. " 

The  talk  turned  to  men  and  wages,  which  latter  were  byway 
of  being  fixed  by  the  county  bench.  Said  a  fat  man  in  buck- 
skin breeches  and  tasselled  Hessian  boots,  thumping  the 
board  until  the  brass  buttons  on  the  cuff  of  his  blue  cutaway 
clinked  again:  "We'll  set  it  at  six  shilluns,  I  tells  ye,  and  six 
shilluns  it  shall  be,  by  God!" 

His  hearers  received  this  ultimatum  with  phlegmatic  com- 
posure and  meditative  whiffing.  Remarked  the  soberest, 
"Wheat's  at  ninety-five.  At  your  price,  Squire,  that'll  run  to 
three  shillings  a  week  to  each  fambly  out  o'  the  rates. " 

"Likely  't  do,  but  that  don't  affec'  me;  mine's  a  close  par- 
ish. " '  replied  the  stout  dictator,  taking  his  wine  off  with  a 
relish. 

Another  voice  resumed:  "Ellwood  says  seven's  too  low;  he's 
for  nine  shillings. " 

"  Damn  Ellwood ! "  snorted  the  autocrat. 

"Aye,  aye,  hot  words  ne'er  filled  a  bushel.  Can  ye  afford  to 
snap  yer  fingers  at  him  ?" 

"And  why  not;  tell  me  that  ?" 

"  Because  he'll  start  that  canal-dock  of  his  if  ye  do,  and 
draw  off  every  lab'rin'  man  for  ten  mile  round  —  " 

"And  keep  the  beggars  for  us  thro'  the  winter?  He's  wel- 
come!" 

"Aye,  and  thro'  haysel  and  harvest,  too.  Why,  man,  there's 
three  years'  work  on  that  job  when  once  'tis  started.  Will  ye 
like  that  ?  Not  ye,  I  think!" 

"Damn  him,  again  says  I,"  retorted  the  other.  "Will  young 
Fanshawe  never  come  home  to  'tend  to  's  affairs  ?  Is  this  blasted 

*A  parish  in  which  there  were  no  poor  rates,  its  landowner  having  pulled  down 
every  cottage,  and  drawing  his  supply  of  laoour  from  neighboring  pansnes,  upon 
which  the  burden  of  supporting  his  men  would  fall  when  their  employer  discharged 
them  at  the  approach  of  winter. —  ED. 

[376] 


CHAPTER  THIRTT-EIGHT 


Quaker  to  ruin  the  county,  spile  the  men,  p'ison  the  children 
wi'  book-larnin'  and  such-like  culch,  and  us,  the  backbone  of 
the  country,  sit  helpless?" 

"'Atween  you  and  me,  Squire,  young  Fanshawe  might  side 
with  his  steward  if  he  did  come  home.  He's  got  the  pick  of 
our  men  for  years  past,  and  has  no  kind  o'  trouble  to  keep  'em 
on  the  estates  —  " 

"No,  by  God!  they're  fussed  and  humoured  and  messed 
about;  housed  as  well  as  my  hunters.  You  never  see  such 
cottages!  His  tenants  dursn't  lay  a  stick  acrost  e'er  a  one  o' 
their  chaps.  'Tis  monstrous!  Is  we  Englishmen?  I  ask  meself. 
The  grand  jury  did  ought  to  make  a  presentment  about  it. " 

"Well,  they  won't  do  no  such  thing,  you'll  see.  For  one  thing, 
the  judge  'd  ask  the  Clerk  of  the  Peace  for  the  Petty  Sessions 
returns,  and  we  all  know  there  be  no  trouble  o'  that  side  o' 
the  county.  So  now,  Squire,  what  say  ye  to  nine  shillings  for 
the  winter  wage  and  peace  with  Ellwood  ?" 

The  last  stage  or  so  of  my  journey  would  have  supplied 
balm  to  my  self-esteem  could  I  with  honesty  have  taken  credit 
for  the  changed  aspect  of  the  country-side  which  met  the  eye 
on  either  hand. 

Instead  of  sunken  capes  of  thatch,  rotten  and  black  where 
they  were  not  hidden  by  moss  and  singreen,  my  cottages  were 
everywhere  well  roofed. 

The  season  being  so  advanced,  their  gardens  had  little  to 
show,  yet  their  emptiness  seemed  due  less  to  neglect  than  to 
husbandry;  the  winter  cabbage  stood  tall  around  the  new  styes: 

Winteringhame  had  changed  little  tho'  it  was  three  years 
since  I  had  set  eyes  on  it;  what  are  three  years  to  those  hale 
patriarchs  the  chase  oaks  ?  Nor  was  the  ranger's  lodge  altered 
a  whit:  Abel  was  still  single  and  found  the  house  sufficient  for 
his  needs. 

1 3771 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

He  was  afield  but  expected.  A  man  took  my  horse.  I  entered 
at  the  back,  and  passing  through  the  darkening  passages,  found 
the  parlour  he  used  and  sat  to  await  him. 

The  stone-barred  window  opened  to  the  west,  a  low  sun  spun 
pale  gold  among  the  leafless  boughs,  sending  an  arch  of  prim- 
rose-tinted light  aloft  to  die  into  the  blue  that  darkened  at  the 
zenith.  The  upper  half  of  that  room  was  still  light;  I  saw  upon  the 
walls  certain  antlered  heads,  spoils  of  my  gun  and  rifle,  sent 
south  for  mounting  in  years  before.  The  lower  half  was  dusk,  yet 
not  so  dusk  but  that  I  could  see  the  table  littered  with  a  woman's 
matters,  a  basket  of  tapes  and  needles,  hanks  of  wool,  and  the 
like.  In  the  seat  of  an  easy  chair  lay  a  little  book  of  household 
accounts;  even  in  that  light  the  script  and  figures  were  familiar. 
A  stocking  half  hid  it,  a  stocking  frayed  at  the  heel  through 
which  peeped  the  white  of  the  delf  nest-egg  a  woman  puts 
within  a  garment  she  is  darning:  the  gleam  of  it  caught  my  eye, 
On  looking  around  me  I  found  more  woman's  gear,  this  and 
that,  but  still  my  eye  returned  to  that  little  stocking.  It  was  no 
man's  wear;  the  selvedge  was  worked  with  initials  in  a  red 
silken  cross-stitch  —  hers  !  My  heart  leapt,  a  wave  of  delight 
surged  through  me  whether  I  would  or  no.  Abel's  housekeeper 
was  my  little  mistress;  I  should  see  her  again.  (  We  had  met  but 
five  times  in  the  six  years.  ) 

This  was  not  alone  more  than  I  had  bargained  for,  but  was 
flatly  against  all  judgement  and  resolution.  It  was  not  to  have 
been,  and  could  lead  to  nought  but  a  reviving  the  old  hopeless 
longings  packed  away  and  locked  in  long  ago. 

Perhaps  after  all  I  was  mistaken;  to  make  sure  I  looked 
more  closely  at  the  stitching,  touched,  lifted  that  little  stocking, 
held  it  to  a  better  light  (  I  had  no  right  to  have  laid  finger  on't  ) 
—  in  a  moment  it  was  at  my  lips! 

"Abel,  thou  foolish  fellow,  what  are  thee  meddling  with 
my  work  for?" 

[378] 


CHAPTER  THIRTr-EIGHT 


Turning  in  guilty  confusion,  I  got  to  my  feet;  I  had  been 
seated  with  face  to  the  window. 

In  the  open  doorway  stood  my  little  mistress,  bright 
against  the  darkness  of  the  passage  behind  her,  the  last  of 
the  sunset  touching  her  hair  with  gold  and  delighting  to 
dwell  upon  the  faint  rose  of  her  cheek  as  the  light  of  evening 
does  in  all  that  is  ruddy  in  nature.  Her  eyes  were  dancing 
with  glee,  her  lips  and  throat  pulsing  with  a  soft  laugh  that 
died  as  I  turned. 

"O,  who  is  it?  George!  dear  George!  thee  here!  How  thou 
startled  me!  To  think  —  " 

"I  am  truly  sorry.  You  have  had  my  letter?  I  marked  it 
'post-haste.'" 

"No,  where  ?  —  when  didst  thou  land  ?  we  thought  thee  in 
Sweden. " 

Our  words  came  with  a  rush,  faster  and  faster:  nor  whilst 
speaking  had  we  kept  our  distance,  but  were  both  moving 
around  the  table  as  we  spoke  and  met  midway  with  outstretched 
hands. 

How  it  befell  I  know  not,  I  swear  I  did  not  foresee  it  by  the 
fraction  of  a  second,  or  forecast  it  in  any  wise,  but,  moving 
so,  into  the  dark  end  of  the  room,  from  the  broad  orange  light 
thrown  by  that  mullioned  window,  we  lost  our  distance,  our 
hands  missed  touch,  it  was  our  arms  that  met,  and  in  one  mom- 
ent she  was  in  my  embrace!  And  rested  there:  not  for  longer 
than  one  soft,  slow  breath,  but  long  enough  for  us  both  to  know 
that  if  the  contact  were  an  accident,  the  resting  in  contact 
was  the  keenest  of  pleasures. 

"George!  what  is  this?  O,  what  have  I  done?  It  cannot 
be,  thou  knows,  it  must  not  be!" 

Alas!  I  knew  why,  or  thought  I  knew. 

We  tore  —  as  it  seemed  —  ourselves  apart :  I  still  silent, 
dumbed  by  a  tumult  of  emotions:  love  for  my  little  mistress, 

[3791 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALIFY 

pity  for  her,  scorn  of  myself,  my  selfish  weakness  that  had 
now  spoilt  her  life.  I  stood  with  hanging  head. 

"Dear  George,  forget  my  folly!  "  (  She  took  the  whole  blame 
to  herself.)  "Mother  will  understand."  (She  dreamed  not 
for  a  moment  of  suppression.  ) 

"Let  us  tell  your  mother,  then,  and  have  it  over.  Is  she  at 
The  Edge,  or  here  ?" 

"They  are  at  Quarterly  Meeting;  they  return  to  The  Edge 
to-morrow.  About  this  time  to-morrow;  we  must  wait  till  then. 
O— !" 

Her  low  voice  had  a  depth  of  soft  pity  in  it.  Silence  fell 
between  us,  the  first  embarrassed  silence  that  either  could 
remember,  broken  presently  by  her. 

"George,  do  not  blame  me  too  much." 

"You  ?  —  myself!"  I  said,  hoarsely. 

"Well,  neither  of  us  then,  so  hardly.  This  was  to  be.  It  is 
no  new  thing,  as  I  can  see  now.  It  is  like  —  like  that  jar  of 
Abel's  stuff  he  puts  crystals  into  —  little  by  little,  and  they  all 
dissolve,  no  one  would  suspect  it  was  not  all  liquid,  then  just 
a  tap,  a  shake,  and  it  finds  itself,  and  in  a  moment  the  thing  is 
solid.  We  were  taken  unawares.  Now  we  know,  —  what  we 
know.  We  must  be  strong,  George;  thou  wilt  be  strong,  and 
help  me  to  be  strong,  for  O  —  " 

"Phoebe,  can't  it  be?  Why  can't  it  just  be?"  I  whispered, 
the  strength  of  my  resolve  going  every  moment,  for  now  I 
was  sure  of  what  I  had  guessed  at  one  of  our  previous  meet- 
ings —  her  ignorance  of  how  her  brother  came  by  his  end. 

I  could  see  her  wet  eyes  shine  in  the  dusk,  her  lips  moved 
silently;  at  last  the  word  came. 

"Because  we  are  not  of  one  mind,  George.  I  do  not  judge 
thee.  Do  thy  duty  as  thou  sees  it,  only  be  sure  it  is  thy  duty. " 

Yes,  she  was  stronger  than  I.  That  she  referred  to  my  rooted 
desire  to  be  soldiering,  I  knew.  The  desire,  still  baulked  as  it 

[380] 


CHAPTER  THIRTr-EIGHT 


had  been  those  seven  years  and  more,  lay  heavily  upon  me:  I 
had  made  no  secret  of  it  to  the  Ellwoods;  that  they  disapproved 
went  without  saying;  it  was  a  matter  never  referred  to. 

I  waved  the  objection  aside. 

"What  has  this  to  do  with  it  ?  You  are  you,  I  am  /:  we  have 
known  one  another  so  long  —  so  long!  Don't  you  see  ?  There 
is  no  one  else  for  you,  I  think,"  her  eyes  were  as  clear  as  water. 
"  There  has  never  been,  and  never  will  be,  any  other  for  me, 
Phoebe.  We  were  made  for  each  other,  Phoebe;  it  should  be  — 
it  must  be!" 

I  caught  her  hand;  it  lay  passive  in  mine. 

"No,  George,  dear  George;  for  so  thou  art  to  me,  and  will 
ever  be,  tho'  I  must  call  thee  so  no  longer  after  to-day  —  save 
in  my  prayers  —  no,  we  must  be  wise  and  brave.  This  is 
—  is  —  " 

She  shook,  she  wavered,  I  felt  her  tremble,  yet,  falling  back 
upon  some  inner  source  of  strength,  she  raised  her  head  and 
faced  me  again. 

"George,  this  thou  art  asking  is  not  everything;  there  are 
ways  of  life  —  Everything?  Indeed  no;  the  married  life  is  very 
wonderful,  and  must  be  sweet  when  the  husband  and  wife  see 
eye  to  eye.  Anything  short  of  that  is  the  saddest  of  mistakes; 
even  so  it  is  often  denied  to  the  best  of  us.  There  are  duties  as 
high,  or  higher;  indeed  it  is  all  a  matter  of  duty,  of  what  is 
one's  duty,  and  that  will  be  made  clear,  is  clear  already  for 
me.  No,  I  am  not  for  thee,  George;  do  not  urge  me,  do  not  over- 
bear my  weakness  until  it  breaks,  and  I  live  to  despise  myself 
and  thou  to  despise  me." 

This  was  using  love  to  defeat  itself.  I  opened  my  lips,  but 
moving  swiftly  to  me  (  we  had  fallen  apart  ),  she  laid  soft  small 
palms  that  shook  upon  my  shoulders,  looking  up  into  my  face 
with  a  piteous  firmness. 

"Yes,  thou  cares  for  me,  I  know  it  now;  and  as  for  me,  thou 

[381] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

hast  seen  my  spirit  too;  but  O,  George,  do  not,  do  not  abuse  thy 
knowledge!  There  are  others  fitter  for  thee. " 

I  shook  my  head;  that  plea  was  absurd  whilst  those  wet 
eyes  were  so  close  to  mine,  whilst  that  sweet  breath  warm 
from  her  parted  lips  played  over  my  face. 

"Yes,  fitter,"  she  persisted;  "fitter  than  I  could  ever  be 
for  that  life,  but  for  my  work  here  there  is  none.  I  am  sister 
and  wife  and  all  to  Abel  —  he  will  never  take  a  mate  —  not 
right  hand  indeed,  but  perhaps  left  hand  to  his  right,  or  little 
finger  George,  to  his  grasp,  just  completing  the  hold.  We 
work  with  one  mind  and  will.  He  is  so  wonderful!  And  it  be- 
gins to  tell.  Thou  dost  not  know,  I  could  shew  thee.  The  men 
love  hint  at  last  —  the  best  of  them  —  they  were  sorely  sus- 
picious for  years;  they  would  not  help  themselves,  or  save- 
It  was  all  drink  —  drink,  every  penny  went  so.  They  seemed 
unable  to  believe  that  we  meant  well  by  them,  or  that  if  we  did 
that  Abel's  stewardship  would  last. 

"But  most  have  come  round  now.  The  gardens  are  getting 
beautiful  and  the  homes  cleaner,  and  the  darling  little  mites 
better  fed  —  " 

"  But  why  should  this  stop  ?  I  am  not  such  a  brute  —  " 

"O,  it  would,  I  know  it  would,"  she  hurried  on,  "See, 
all  my  time  is  his  now.  Mother  released  me.  Dear  mother  is 
almost  strong  again,  and  with  father  out  of  business  —  for 
The  Edge  is  play  after  the  mill  and  those  long  journeys  —  he 
and  she  are  always  together  and  I  am  here.  And  truly  my  hands 
are  full  from  morning  to  night.  I  could  tell  thee  —  there  >  are 
the  classes  I  take  myself,  and  others  we  oversee;  schools  to 
visit.  Some  days  I  am  driving  all  day,  George.  No,  do  not  take 
me  from  my  work,  Abel's  work;  he  plans  everything;  this  is 
my  place,  a  place  where  God  has  put  me,  and  has  trained  me 
for.  Indeed  I  am  happy  in  it,  and  should  be  good  for  nothing 
elsewhere. " 

[38*] 


CHAPTER  THIRTr-EIGHT 


What  lover  ever  yet  was  moved  by  such  a  plea  ?  The  strong 
human  impulse  welled  up  within  me;  after  all  I  was  a  man, 
she  just  a  woman  and  lawful  prize.  She  should  be  mine.  I 
would  win  her,  trusting  to  nature  and  to  two  warm  hearts  for 
the  rest. 

Her  hands  had  slipt  from  my  shoulders,  they  were  fluttering 
upon  my  breast,  one  on  either  side,  pushing  me  from  her, 
forcing  us  apart,  utterly  unconscious  of  herself.  The  action  and 
attitude  touched  a  chord  of  memory,  a  chord  still  vibrant;  just 
so  had  her  brother  stood  years  before  restraining  me  from  the 
dark  waters,  death  and  hell. 

I  could  have  taken  her  by  storm,  caught  her  wrists,  her 
waist,  pressed  her  to  my  heart,  silenced  the  pleadings  of  her  lips 
with  mine.  It  was  in  me  to  do  it;  one  side  of  me  throbbing  urged 
the  experiment.  "A  bold  plunge,  she  is  yours!  up  manhood!" 
But  she  and  hers  had  not  so  trained  me.  The  other  side  hung 
back,  holding  in  leash  the  ignobler  self;  I  stood  convinced  against 
all  promptings  of  sense  of  the  way  in  which  it  was  ordained  for 
me  to  walk,  the  grimly  happy  path  of  renunciation. 

She  felt  herself  victor  —  it  was  now  grown  too  dark  for  her 
to  read  my  face  —  her  hands  fell,  she  stept  back  with  a  stifled 
sob,  secure  that  her  appeal  had  won  the  verdict  —  for  that 
time  at  least. 

The  door  closed  behind  her,  upon  my  little  mistress,  a  very 
woman.  Our  first  love-scene,  hers  or  mine  —  was  over;  she  had 
left  me,  and  the  word  "love"  had  not  crossed  our  lips. 

An  explanation  was  due  to  my  dear  old  master.  The  following 
afternoon  found  me  at  his  side  in  The  Edge  garden,  pacing 
slowly  the  mossy  gravel  between  espalier  pears  still  beautiful 
with  the  late-hanging  bronze  and  purple  leaf. 

Having  said  my  say,  and  said  it  with  a  sort  of  dogged  hope- 
lessness, as  a  man  ashamed  —  not  of  what  he  has  asked,  but 

[383] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QU4LITT 

of  his  weakness  in  having  craved  a  thing  impossible  —  there 
fell  a  silence  between  us. 

Slowly  we  paced,  I  had  nought  to  urge;  the  word,  what- 
ever it  might  be,  lay  with  him,  who  seemed  in  no  haste  to  utter 
it.  I  was  spared  the  tortures  of  hope,  and  had  known  the  man 
and  his  goodness  too  long  to  fear  him.  As  his  lips  remained 
closed  whilst  we  twice  measured  the  length  of  the  alley,  I  spoke 
again,  and  in  my  excuse. 

"Sir,  'tis  impossible;  let  us  agree  on't,  and  have  done  with  it. 
You  will  not  blame  me,  being  a  young  fellow,  and  she  what 
she  is  —  God  bless  her!"  I  raised  my  hat.  "Even  if  she  hung  in 
the  wind,  and  I  cannot  say  she  does  —  and  tho'  our  hearts 
might  —  might  —  yet  there  lies  between  us  what  you  have 
mercifully  spared  her  the  knowledge  of,  but  what  you  and  I 
can  ne'er  forget." 

He  turned  to  me,  and  his  eyes  were  more  than  kind.  "Nay, 
George  Fanshawe,  that  has  passed.  'Tis  true  that  my  poor 
lad's  end  is  unknown  to  his  sister —  and  mother  ( the  one  and 
only  secret  of  my  married  life  )  —  but  in  that  matter  I  do  not 
believe  that  the  Almighty  condemns  thee  —  neither  do  I 
condemn  thee.  The  darkness  of  that  day  is  long  since  lightened, 
and  for  that  blessed  light  I  have  measurably  to  thank  thee, 
my  friend. " 

My  face  put  the  question  my  lips  were  unable  to  shape, 
such  was  my  surprise. 

"Yes,  thee;  thy  words  went  home.  I  no  longer  think  so 
meanly  of  the  All  Merciful  as  to  hold  Him  capable  of  what 
the  cruellest  of  His  erring  children  would  shrink  from  inflicting. 
If  I  loved  poor  wayward  Samuel  —  and  love  him  still,"  the 
water  sprang  to  his  eyes  —  "be  sure  so  does  He.  If  I  long  to 
restore  him  —  if  my  thoughts  turn  to  the  ring,  and  the  robe, 
and  the  feast  —  if  I  still  yearn  to  bring  him  home  again,  be 
sure  He  does,  and  will.  Thou  taught  me  this,  George.  Our 

[384] 


CHAPTER  THIRTr-EIGHT 


people  do  not  hold  this  view  yet;  I  cannot  give  thee  Scripture 
for  it:  it  is  the  new  light,  here  — •  "  he  laid  a  hand  upon  his 
heart  for  an  instant.  "  But  it  shines  clearly,  and  I  am  not  per- 
mitted to  doubt  what  I  have  seen.  Who  am  I  to  limit  the 
pardoning  love  of  my  Saviour  ?  to  set  bounds  to  His  power  to 
save  —  to  restore  ? 

"No,  George,  'tis  not  thy  sudden  deed  that  parts  us,  but  duty. 
Thou  art  at  heart  a  soldier —  " 

"But  that's  all  done  with,  sir;  Sweden  was  my  last  hope: 
I've  wasted  my  time  there;  had  my  answer,  and  here  you  see 
me." 

He  let  the  avowal  pass.  It  was  not  the  circumstance,  but 
the  spirit  and  the  will  he  regarded;  and  in  this  matter  of  bear- 
ing arms  mine  were  as  far  from  his  as  ever.  This  I  ignored. 

"So  you  will  not  oppose  —  refuse  to  allow  me  —  I  mean, 
I  may  try  again,  sir?"  Hope  was  leaping  within  me  like  a 
fountain,  had  I  but  known  of  this  last  evening  she  had  been 
mine  there  and  then.  The  thought  of  that  dead  rascal's  blood 
between  us  had  taken  the  steel  out  of  my  attack;  "Lord!  there 
shall  be  no  funking  next  time!  But  I  must  secure  this  dear  old 
saint's  leave  first,"  so  much  I  knew. 

"George  Fanshawe,  if  Phoebe  will  have  thee  I  will  not  refuse 
my  consent." 

The  heart  of  youth  bounded  within  me;  everything  was 
possible,  nay  easy,  nay  certain!  The  face  I  turned  to  him 
blazed:  his  still  wore  its  form  of  kindly  pity.  He  knew  his 
daughter.  To  the  side  of  the  matter  which  would  have  engrossed 
the  attention  of  most  fathers  in  such  circumstances,  the  quality 
and  condition  of  the  suitor,  the  settlements  he  might  offer 
and  the  rest  on't,  this  strange  man  gave  not  a  thought.  Rank 
he  valued  at  a  straw,  would  willingly  have  dispensed  with  in 
Phoebe's  case.  Money  as  money  had  no  lure  for  him;  and  the 
estates  he  estimated  as  a  heavy  responsibility.  It  was  no  prig- 

[385] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  OJJALITT 

gish  affectation;  this  man  had  the  power  of  seeing  things  as 
they  are,  saw  them  whilst  in  life  and  health  as  we  all  come  to 
see  them  at  the  last,  when  on  the  edge  of  the  grave  and  know- 
ledge has  come  too  late. 

But  that  "if"  of  my  dear  old  master,  which  had  seemed 
at  its  first  utterance  an  earnest  of  success,  changed  complexion 
most  strangely  as  I  went  to  learn  my  fate.  At  once  I  went, 
leaving  my  old  friend  standing  deep  in  thought,  or  prayer, 
in  the  espalier-walk;  hit  or  miss,  I  would  brook  no  delay.  The 
dyke  had  given  at  last  in  spite  of  me;  being  down,  the  mischief 
was  done,  we  could  never  resume  our  old  relation;  the  thing 
cried  aloud  for  an  understanding. 

But  tho'  all  for  putting  the  question  to  a  definite  issue  and 
hearing  the  best  or  the  worst,  I  must  practice  patience;  my 
mistress,  who  had  returned  to  her  father's  house  that  morning, 
was  out;  I  must  await  her  return. 

Pacing  thus  the  dark,  low-ceiled  parlour  hung  about  with 
such  works  of  art  as  the  Quakers  allow,  a  print  of  William 
Penn  a-making  of  his  treaty  with  the  Indians,  and  sundry 
black  silhouettes  in  oval  frames,  a  slow  footfall  announced 
the  approach  of  Mrs.  Ellwood. 

We  had  met  earlier  in  the  afternoon;  whether  she  knew  of 
my  errand  or  no  I  could  not  divine;  her  smile  and  address 
were  as  kind  and  unembarrassed  as  usual. 

"Won't  thee  be  seated,  George?  I  have  a  weakness  for 
strict  equality,  thee  knows;  and  how  shall  we  converse  on  fair 
terms  if  I  am  comfortable  in  my  chair  and  thee  rambling  about 
the  room  — " 

"Like  a  lost  dog  ?"  I  suggested,  achieving  a  smile  as  I  obeyed. 
She  beamed  upon  me  motherly  as  of  old. 

"Nearer,  please,  George:  I  thank  thee.  Now  may  I  speak? 
I  have  heard  how  this  stands  from  Phoebe." 

I  bowed:  she  patted  my  hand  with  her  thin  mittened  fingers; 


CHAPTER  THIRTr-EIGHTH 


"  I  see  nothing  to  regret  in  it  —  so  far.  It  is  all  natural,  and 
right,  and  in  the  Almighty's  ordering." 

"Then  you  consent,  Mrs.  Ellwood  —  O!" 

"Wait,  George,  do  not  outrun  me,  I  am  an  old  woman  and 
slow  of  foot,  thee  knows;  I  said  so  far.  To  have  known  one 
another  for  these  years  is  a  good  and  precious  thing  for  you 
both.  Nothing  can  spoil  the  memory  of  that:  it  is  a  part  of 
your  lives.  To  have  loved  one  another —  ah!  that  too  is  a  gift, 
a  very  wonderful  gift.  You  are  rich  indeed  if  your  experiences 
end  here." 

But  the  lady  was  speaking  to  a  lover. 

"Why  should  the  thing  stop  here  ?  You  consent:  her  father 
consents:  Phoebe  loves  me:  what  else  have  we  to  consider  ?" 

"The  will  of  God,  dear  friend."  The  words  were  breathed 
softly:  they  gave  me  pause. 

"Think;  He  made  you  both  for  His  service.  His  is  the  first 
claim.  Wouldest  thou  not  have  owned  it  if  He  had  seen  fit 
to  take  her  to  Himself?  It  may  be  that  He  has  need  of  her  here 
below  and  calls  upon  thee  to  resign  her  to  Him." 

Was  ever  such  a  woman  ?  To  hear  a  mother  calmly  facing 
the  possibility  of  her  daughter's  death  —  her  only  daughter, 
mind  you,  and  such  a  daughter!  —  stopped  my  mouth. 

The  lady  had  spoken  slowly  with  pauses  between.  When, 
as  she  judged,  the  words  had  sunk  in,  she  resumed: 

"Thou  thinks  a  woman's  duty  is  to  love  and  to  work  for  a 
man  —  some  man."  It  was  just  what  I  had  thought,  that  and 
nought  else. 

"Such  is  the  Almighty's  will  for  most  of  us.  But  there  are 
other  paths  of  service  for  a  woman's  feet.  Sometimes  He  calls 
her  to  serve  not  a  man,  but  mankind :  to  nurse  her  sister  woman, 
to  teach  little  children,  to  raise  the  fallen. 

"Hast  thou  heard  of  Robert  Raikes  ?" 

I  had  not,  and  heard  now  of  that  Gloucester  Quaker  who 

[387] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

had  recently  begun  the  work  of  gathering  into  schools  the 
vicious  and  neglected  infancy  of  that  cathedral  city. 

"My  Phoebe,"  said  her  mother  with  gentle  pride,  "has 
stayed  with  Robert  Raikes  and  studied  his  methods.  She  is 
applying  them  to  the  children  of  thy  estates,  George  Fanshawe. 

"Hast  thou  heard  of  Elizabeth  Fry?" 

Of  that  modern  saint,  even  I  had  heard. 

"My  Phoebe  has  seen  much  of  our  friend  Elizabeth  Fry; 
has  been  with  her  in  Newgate." 

I  almost  leapt.  My  cheeks  loosened  with  the  shock:  my 
little  mistress  among  the  crawling  filth,  the  stenches,  the  foul 
language  and  fouler  bodies  of  that  den  of  she-felons! 

"Yes,  she  learnt  much  there  too,  and  has  been  instrumental 
in  bettering  matters  in  Chester  jail  and  Lancaster  Castle.  Her 
example  has  stirred  up  others,  thou  sees.  She  was  greatly 
helped;  she  appealed  in  person  to  the  justices  in  Quarter 
Session,  and  we  think  not  wholly  in  vain.  The  women's  side  at 
Lancaster  is  said  to  be  a  changed  place." 

"Mrs.  Ellwood,  you  amaze  me!  Has  Phoebe  done  this? 
How  ?  When  —  ?  Is  it  possible  that  you  knew  and  allowed  it  ? " 
I  was  afraid  to  trust  myself  to  say  all  I  felt,  a  pained  astonish- 
ment, almost  amounting  to  indignation,  so  possessed  me: 
all  this  was  so  utterly  at  variance  with  my  conception  of  a 
woman's  round  of  duty. 

"Oh,  I  could  tell  thee  more.  Our  Phoebe  is  a  woman  of 
character,  George;  she  has  a  will,  a  quiet  force  and  a  fund  of 
sound  common  sense:  she  is  known  already:  she  corresponds 
with  William  Wilberforce  and  Thomas  Clarkson,  Samuel 
Romilly  and  others,  friends  of  the  slave  and  oppressed, 
who  are  labouring  for  those  who  cannot  help  themselves, 
George." 

I  sat  and  looked  upon  my  old  friend  without  a  word;  my 
ideas  of  what  was  fit  and  permissible  for  a  woman  had  suddenly 

[388] 


CHAPTER  THIRTT-EIGHT 


become  inadequate  and  out-o'-date.  Things,  opinions,  customs, 
persons  had  shifted  strangely;  changed  places,  altered  in  value 
remarkably  in  the  last  few  moments. 

I  was  as  a  seaman  returned  from  a  French  prison  who  finds 
his  native  land  under  a  new  ministry,  and  his  younger  brother, 
let  us  say,  whom  he  left  a  schoolboy,  grown  to  be  a  person  of 
worship  and  well-considered. 

In  these  minutes  my  little  mistress,  sweet,  simple,  girlish, 
the  gentlest  and  freshest  of  God's  creatures,  the  veriest 
wild  rosebud  of  a  girl,  had  developed  incredibly  under  my 
eyes. 

"This  has  seemed  evidently  the  path  marked  out  for 
her,  George;  she  has  travelled  far,  watched  closely,  thought 
deeply,  prayed  earnestly.  Now  she  is  putting  experience  into 
practice." 

The  speaker  paused;  nor  was  I  in  haste  to  urge  the  pleas 
which  had  seemed  so  unanswerable  a  minute  before.  That  my 
mistress  had  grown  ten  times  better  worth  the  winning  in  these 
minutes  goes  without  saying.  It  was  a  sense  of  my  own  un- 
worthiness  that  closed  my  lips. 

"And  you  feel  —  she  feels  —  that  her  marrying  me  would 
stop  all  this?  Indeed  it  shall  not!  I  will  lay  all  else  aside  and 
help  her.  Yes,  with  heart,  and  soul,  and  strength  I  will!" 

"So  thou  intends,  dear  friend,  so  thou  wouldst  attempt; 
but,  before  thou  runs,  make  sure  that  thou  art  sent.  Is  this 
work  also  thine  ?  Thou  hast  sought  for  years  to  re-enter  the 
army.  This  desire  has  engrossed  thy  thoughts,  George  ? "  I 
nodded  assent. 

"But  that's  at  an  end.  Yes,  Mrs.  Ellwood,  as  ye  know,  I 
have  trained  myself  for  a  duty  I  felt  —  or  thought  I  felt  — 
was  laid  upon  me.  I  need  not  tell  you,  for  you  know,  this 
evil  man  strides  across  the  map;  spares  none.  Austria  was 
strong;  he  has  stricken  her  down.  'They  that  take  the  sword, 

[389] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

shall  perish  by  the  sword,'  you  Friends  will  quote.  Ah,  but 
Venice  was  weak;  she  struck  not  a  blow;  he  had  not  the  shadow 
of  a  quarrel  with  her;  yet  he  felled,  and  bound,  and  sold  her 
like  a  slave.  Those  poor  Switzers,  too,  and  the  Hollanders,  the 
Free  Cities,  and  the  rest.  And  just  because  Lord  Nelson  has 
broken  them  upon  the  seas,  and  there's  no  more  talk  of  invasion, 
and  you  all  sleep  sound  o'  nights,  and  have  stopped  looking  at 
the  beacons,  is  England's  work  finished  ?  I  say  —  No! 

"Well,  I  thought  myself  called,  but  I  was  mistaken.  Heaven 
can  do  very  well  without  me;  that  work  is  for  others.  Nobody 
wants  my  sword;  I  may  break  it  and  turn  Friend." 

The  faintest  and  kindest  smile  played  over  the  dear  lady's 
face;  her  hand  sought  mine  in  sympathy  for  the  chagrin  of  a 
lost  ideal  which  she  did  not  share. 

The  door  opened,  Phoebe  stood  on  the  threshold,  paler  than 
I  would  have  had  her,  and  needlessly  startled. 

"Mother — George!  I  did  not  know  you  were  within  here. 
Forgive  my  interruption."  She  turned  to  leave,  but  stayed  to 
reply  to  her  mother's  unspoken  question. 

"Yes,  dear,  she  is  dead;  but  the  children  are  alive;  twin 
girlies;  such  morsels!  The  doctor  was  not  fetched  in  time;  but 
nothing  could  have  been  done  —  he  says  so;  the  case  was  a 
very  bad  one;  the  nurse  was  drunk  and  helpless  —  not  one  of 

>3 

ours. 

"Thou  wast  single-handed,  Phoebe?" 

The  girl  nodded.  Her  lips  were  white;  the  horror  of  what  she 
had  done  and  seen  was  still  fresh. 

''The  little  ones  are  well  bestowed,"  she  said;  "and  O,  I 
was  forgetting  —  pardon  me  please,  George  —  here  are  letters 
for  thee.  One  of  Abel's  men  rode  over  with  them.  I  met  him  at 
the  gate." 

I  was  for  putting  the  packet  aside,  but  both  ladies  urging 
me,  broke  the  seals  at  once.  (  A  letter  was  a  letter  in  those  days.) 

[390] 


CHAPTER  THIRTY-EIGHT 


It  was  the  Colonel's  hand,  writ  from  Stockholm  the  very  day 
I  sailed,  and  must  have  come  by  the  same  ship.  The  slip  of 
vellum  it  covered  brought  a  hot  flush  to  my  cheek.  It  was  a 
captain's  commission  in  the  service  of  His  Majesty  the  King  of 
Sweden.  At  last!  and  at  this  particular  moment,  O  the  irony 
of  fortune!  the  saddest  stroke  of  good  luck! 

"My  dear  Mr.  Fanshawe  "  (thus  the  Colonel,  a  general  officer 
now  )  "you  cannot  be  better  pleased  to  receive  than  I  to  des- 
patch what  this  covers. 

"By  the  most  propitious  chance  in  this  world  I  got  scent 
of  a  matter  on  this  very  day  after  making  my  adieux  to  your 
good  self,  videlicit,  an  accommodation  (  at  this  time  of  writing 
most  profoundly  secret )  committing  the  Northern  Powers  to 
an  alliance  with  your  Government. 

"In  fine,  my  Royal  Master  has  engaged  himself  with  the 
Governmenti  of  King  George,  His  Majesty  of  Prussia  and  the 
Czar,  for  purposes  offensive  and  defensive.  The  seals  were 
affixed  to  the  treaty  and  copies  exchanged  no  earlier  than 
yesterday. 

"We  are  weak  in  cavalry  and  are  bound  by  this  treaty  to 
raise  certain  squadrons  upon  the  main.  It  is  in  the  first  of  these, 
the  Royal  Regiment  of  Stralsund  Hussars,  that  I  have  procured 
your  commission  as  captain. 

"From  this  you  are  not  to  assume  that  the  malefic  influences 
which  have  so  long  stood  in  your  way  (  and  in  mine  as  your 
well-wisher  and  patron  )  are  wholly  mollified.  The  British 
Ambassador  was  caught  napping  —  no  more  —  by  your  old 
friend;  I  did  him  a  service  and  this  is  my  honorarium. 

"Haste  to  me  as  promptly  as  sails  can  bring  you;  bis  dot 
gut  cito  dat,  and  thrice  welcome  he  who  arrives  when  wanted. 

"I  have  represented  ye  as  a  devil  of  a  fellow,  whether  afoot 
or  mounted,  attesting  yr.  performance  with  pistol  against 
pistol  on  the  field  of  honour,  and  of  whipstock  against  bullet  in 

[390 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

the  arena  of  chance  medley.  For  the  Lord's  sake,  and  for  the 
honour  of  Clan  Cruner,  approve  my  commendations,  and 
"Believe  me  to  remain, 

"Ever  your  most  attached,  faithful  and 

assiduous  well-wisher,  and  most  obed  . 
servt., 

"AENEAS  GUNN." 

Having  read  this  letter  through  twice  I  sate  staring  at  the 
thing,  drumming  upon  the  table  with  perplexed  fingers,  my 
brows  furrowed  with  thought. 

The  ladies  perceived  that  something  unusual  was  upon  my 
mind,  and  checking  their  exchange  of  chat  under  cover  of 
which  I  had  read,  turned  to  me  half-expectant. 

"Forgive  me,"  said  I,  "for  an  uncouth  fellow  little  used  of 
late  to  such  company  as  this.  Yes,  I  have  something  to  tell 
you.  See  here,  it  has  come  at  last!  Phoebe,  this  is  my  commis- 
sion. I  am  bidden  to  join  at  once." 

Her  eyes  grew  large,  but  she  held  her  peace. 

"Come,  we  are  at  the  parting  of  the  ways.  Take  me,  Phoebe, 
and  I  tear  this  across  and  am  yours  for  life!  'until  it  shall 
please  the  Lord  by  death  to  separate  us,'  yes,  you  taught  me 
that!" 

It  was  not  to  the  mother  I  spoke,  but  to  the  daughter.  I 
looked  across  at  her;  her  eyes  met  mine  steadily;  her  parted 
lips  alone  shewed  the  distress  of  her  spirit. 

She  was  seated  now  and  took  the  parchment  I  passed  across 
the  table  with  a  steady  hand,  glanced  at  it  and  laid  it  down. 

Twice  did  she  try  to  speak,  and  twice  the  voice  died  in  her 
throat.  Turning  to  her  mother  she  looked  long,  and  then 
laid  her  head  upon  the  table,  her  face  hidden  in  her  hands. 
I  waited. 

'*  This  is  very  wonderful,"  she  said  at  length,  only  a  little 
[392] 


CHAPTER  THIRTr-EIGHT 


above  a  whisper.  "It  seems  the  answer  I  have  sought.  Dost 
thou  not  see,  George,  the  Almighty  has  spoken,  has  made  the 
path  plain  for  us  both  ?  It  is  not  the  path  I  could  have  chosen 
for  thee,  this  dreadful  path  of  darkness  and  storm,  confused 
noise  and  garments  rolled  in  blood." 

Her  face  was  laid  upon  her  hands  again,  and  when  she  lifted 
it  the  cheeks  were  wet. 

"Am  I  not  right,  George  ?  Hast  thou  not  prayed  for  this  all 
these  years?" 

I  had,  as  I  had  learned  of  her. 

"Then  who  am  I  —  a  woman  —  to  tempt  thee  aside  from  what 
seems  right  to  thee,  from  what  thou  hears  God  calling  thee  to  ? 
Go  !  O,  go  !  —  Oh,  what  am  I  saying  ?  It  sounds  too  cruel ! 
but  here,  we  only  hinder  one  another.  Is  it  not  so  ? 

"This  is  our  Father's  ordering,  I  feel  it.  There  is  work 
waiting  for  thee  out  there  —  somewhere  —  which  only  thou 
canst  do.  It  has  always  been  so  with  thee,  has  it  not  ?  Strange, 
obscure  preparings  for  sudden  chances,  which  were  no  chances 
at  all! 

"Thou  wilt  be  as  dear  to  God  in  a  red  coat  as  in  a  drab  one, 
and  as  surely  His  servant. 

"Perhaps  we  do  not  see  all."  I  knew  she  spoke  of  her 
people. 

"And  if —  and  when  thy  service  is  accomplished,  and  mine, 
and  He  has  spared  thee  —  "  her  voice  shook  —  "then  —  then  — 
if  it  seems  right  —  But  meanwhile,  George,  dear  George,  go!" 

She  pushed  the  parchment  across  to  me,  our  fingers  touched; 
"Go!  O,  go,  George!  do  not  try  me  too  far.  Oh,  how  can  they 
do  it,  those  women  up  and  down,  who  are  sending  their  men  to 
the  fighting  ?  I  have  watched  and  wondered  at  them,  and  now  it 
has  come  to  me  —  to  me!" 

She  arose  and  came  to  me  around  the  table  and  stood  holding 
me  by  the  hands. 

[393] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

"Mother,  may  I  ?  We  may  never  meet  again  in  this  life! 
Farewell,  George  —  farewell  my  love!  May  He  keep  thee!" 

For  one  marvellous  moment  our  lips  met,  the  next  she  had 
fled  from  my  embrace  to  her  mother's  bosom. 

I  bowed  my  head  and  left  that  room  and  the  house,  sent  to 
the  wars  by  a  Quakeress. 


[394] 


MEMOIRS   OF  A 

PERSON  OF  QUALITY 


CHAPTER   THIRTY-NINE 
WHOLLY    UNIMPORTANT 


PHOEBE,  as    was    suitable,   remained    at    The    Edge 
with  her  parents;  I  rode  over  to  the  lodge  and  found 
in  Abel's   massive   incurious    silence   a   balm   for  my 
distress  of  spirit. 

To  have  thrown  and  lost  is  little  if  the  stake  be  reparable, 
but  to  have  laid  the  secret  hopes  of  long  years,  one's  heart  and 
life,  all  I  was  worth,  all  I  could  ever  be,  upon  the  table,  pledged 
against  a  small  soft  hand,  and  to  have  lost:  you  will  admit  this 
was  monstrous  hard. 

My  little  mistress  had  fairly  outgeneralled  me :  had  arrayed 
the  half  of  me,  possibly  the  better  half,  in  arms  against  my  suit 
and  worsted  me  so.  Whilst  all  the  while,  there  she  stood,  a 
very  woman,  three-parts  won,  nay,  ail-but  mine,  and  O,  so 
infinitely  better  worth  the  winning  than  I  had  dreamed ! 

Lord !  to  what  a  stature  had  she  grown !  What  a  climbing 
spirit  was  hers! 

For  once  I  slept  poorly,  and  had  risen  betimes  in  hopes 
of  riding  his  first  round  with  Abel,  but  found  that  early  man 
was  already  up  and  off.  Pacing  the  hall  bricks  before  break- 
fast awaiting  his  return,  that  row  of  antlers  along  the  wall  caught 
my  eye.  In  a  moment  I  had  sprung  upon  a  stool  and  had  one 
down,  then  another,  and  was  out  at  the  woodshed. 

[395] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITT 

"Play!  —  play!  —  boys'  play!"  I  muttered  as  the  hatchet 
crashed  and  rose. 

"Good  morning  to  thee,  George!"  It  was  Abel  attracted  by 
the  noise.  "Whatever  are  thee  doing  ?" 

"Putting  away  childish  things.  I  am  a  man  at  last,"  said 
I,  regarding  the  wrecks  of  half-a-dozen  good  heads  with  grim 
satisfaction. 

"Phoebe  will  miss  these,"  he  said;  "cannot  thee  spare  her 
one  ?  This  is  her  favourite,  a  noble  pair  of  antlers,  these. " 
From  the  heap  where  I  had  thrown  them  awaiting  destruction, 
he  lifted  the  best,  a  royal,  of  six-and-twenty  points  ( the 
"muckle  hart  o'  Kinloch  Shin"  —  a  notable  old  bully  in  his  day, 
a  stag  I  had  lain  out  three  days  and  nights  to  kill  ). 

His  question  put  the  matter  in  a  new  light. 

"What,  she  cares  for  the  thing?  I  had  not  thought  of  that; 
keep  the  lot,  Abel,  faith  I'm  sorry  I  smashed  any  of  them. 
Lucky  ye  came  when  ye  did;  these  few  won't  signify,  there's  a 
plenty  left.  Is  it  only  Scottish  heads,  or  does  she  value  —  ?" 

"She  admires  them  all.  Those  elk  from  Sweden  are  strangely 
fine;  —  yes,  I  will  accept  them  gladly  for  her;  the  house  would 
look  commonplace  without  them. " 

Feeling  like  a  fool  I  helped  him  carry  them  back  whence  they 
came. 

He  must  have  divined  I  was  out  of  sorts,  and  perhaps  set 
it  down  to  my  sudden  call  to  arms,  as  to  which  he  and  I  were 
agreed  to  differ;  and  so,  minded  to  help  me,  as  I  believe,  the 
good  fellow  talked  more  during  breakfast  than  was  usual  with 
him,  and  would  have  from  me  the  history  of  the  big  head,  for, 
said  he,  "We  have  none  like  it  in  the  chase,  and  I  think  there 
can  be  few  up  north  so  heavy  now-a-days. " 

So  for  Phoebe's  sake  I  told  him  the  story  of  the  best  of 
my  Scottish  heads,  the  great  warlock  hart  of  Corrie  Kinloch,  a 
beast  known  to  the  grandfathers  of  my  gillies,  one  whose 

[396] 


CHAPTER  THIRTT-NINE 


spells  had  turned  more  than  one  bullet  cast  from  the  "white 
money." 

"There,  man,"  said  I  summing  up,  "you  have  the  main  of 
a  stupid  business,  and  I  wonder  at  a  sober  soul  like  yourself 
taking  pleasure  in  hearing  such  stuff;  the  boyish  folly  of  it  — 
pah!" 

"Not  so,"  said  he,  low  and  pointed  as  he  was  used  to  speak 
when  he  had  made  up  his  mind  on  a  thing;  "  'twas  innocent 
enough  according  to  thy  lights  at  the  time  (  now  it  might 
be  otherwise  );  'twas  all  in  thy  day's  work  as  one  may  say. " 

"That's  so:  I  am  good  for  no  better. " 

He  looked  me  over  with  a  look  I  did  not  understand. 

"Thou  hast  a  fine  great  frame  to  keep  fit,  and  a  fine  clear 
eye  and  a  delicate  ear  to  preserve  in  use  —  " 

"For  what?" 

"That  is  beyond  me;  but  I  can  remember  a  day  down  south 
when  thy  hand  and  eye  were  accepted  —  they  may  be  again. 

"This  call  for  thee  is  no  accident,  George;  since  I  heard  of  it 
my  mind  has  run  on  the  strangest  of  fancies. "  He  rose  and  paced 
the  room  with  hands  behind  him  and  eyes  upon  the  floor:  "Do 
thee  know  I  find  it  in  me  to  envy  thee  ?  There  must  be  a  wild 
streak  in  my  composition,  for  since  last  night  this  life  of  mine 
seems  poor  and  small,  George;  too  easy  and  certain  and 
secure,  somehow. 

"I  shall  think  of  thee  —  and  wish  myself  with  thee  at  times, 
which  will  be  wrong,  for  I  know  by  this  what  my  right  place  is, 
and  why  I  was  put  into  it  —  and  yet  —  " 

He  smiled  upon  me  tremulously  and  some  moisture  dimmed 
his  eye,  then  with  a  manifest  effort  he  resumed:  "It  seemed  to 
me  last  night  as  if  something  weighed  upon  thy  spirits,  perhaps 
I  am  mistaken,  but  —  but  if  I  could  help  thee  in  any  way  —  ' 
(  putting  aside  with  the  gentlest  gesture  my  unspoken  dissent ); 

[397] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITT 

"just  to  carry  thy  burden  —  thee  have  a  burden,  I  think. 
Well  —  well !  God  have  thee  in  His  keeping,  George,  my  friend!  " 

That  I  declare  was  his  parting  word,  for  he  was  ten  miles 
away  approving  the  plans  for  a  great  dam  when  I  left  the  place, 
nor  did  it  occur  to  him  (  or  to  me  )  to  talk  business,  or  to 
refer  to  the  new  canal,  or  to  the  pits,  and  the  trolleys  that 
he  had  planned  to  run  on  iron  rails  from  the  pits  to  the  fly- 
boats  on  the  canal,  a  scheme  that  presently  added  some  thou- 
sands yearly  to  my  income. 

We  knew  one  another's  minds,  you  see,  up  to  a  point;  beyond 
lay  territories  unexplored  and  inaccessible  to  either. 

What  my  trouble  was  he  had  never  guessed. 


[398] 


MEMOIRS   OF  A 

PERSON   OF  QUALITY 

CHAPTER  FORTY 
I  ENCOUNTER  A  KNIGHT-ERRANT 


NOW  that  I  come  to  think  of  it,  I  rode  away  from  Win- 
teringhame  somewhat  too  leaden-hearted  for  a  young 
soldier  off  to  the  wars  by  his  own  choice. 

The  charm  had  vanished  from  the  country-side;  that  mile- 
long  avenue  of  oaks  which  an  ancestor  of  my  mother's  had 
planted  as  the  memorial  of  a  visit  of  some  sovereign  (  Eliza- 
beth, surely,  for  the  Maiden  Queen  would  seem  to  have  spent 
half  of  her  time  on  progress ),  these  wide-limbed  trees, 
I  say,  that  had  welcomed  my  home-coming  two  days  earlier, 
now  dript  their  melting  rime  over  me  as  I  rode  beneath  them 
at  my  going. 

The  weather  had  changed  without  me  and  within. 

It  cost  me  not  a  sigh  to  leave  a  place  which  I  had  never 
lived  upon  for  more  than  a  few  months  at  a  time,  and  which 
still  after  years  of  ownership  seemed  less  mine  than  Abel's.  My 
proprietorship,  always  shadowy,  had  seldom  appeared  to  me 
less  real  than  on  that  day.  Truly  I  think  I  would  have  surren- 
dered those  nine  manors  in  fee  simple  to  any  man  who  could 
have  guaranteed  me  fifty  acres  and  Phoebe,  just  the  girl  as  she 
stood,  and  one  —  any  one  —  of  my  half-timbered  farm-houses  for 
a  nest  for  her.  The  sickness  had  come  upon  me,  I  longed  for  a 
home,  quiet  and  small,  and  pictured  myself  and  her,  Darby  and 

[399] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUJLITT 

Joan,  with  an  uneven,  quarried  floor  beneath  our  feet,  and 
bowed  black  beams  close  over  our  heads  as  we  faced  one  an- 
other across  the  oaken  supper-board. 

I  saw  the  back-log  upon  the  hearth,  the  kettle  on  its  chain, 
and  here  was  I  riding  away  from  it  all  to  die  in  a  ditch. 

What  curse  was  on  me  that  I  alone  of  men  must  sit  muzzled 
at  the  feast  of  life  ?  No  Jack  upon  my  lands  but  might  win  his 
Jill  and  enjoy  her,  whilst  I,  the  fellow  they  all  envied,  belike, 
their  nominal  lord,  went  hungry  and  lay  cold. 

This,  you  will  perceive,  was  the  reaction  consequent  upon 
a  great  resolve.  We  are'  made  so,  or  I  am.  There's  a  flaw  in 
us.  The  moment  of  supreme  tension,  when  our  hearts,  wire- 
drawn and  resonant,  respond  to  angel  touches  ( to  the  finger 
of  the  very  God  Himself,  I'd  say  if  I  dared  ),  passes:  some  peg 
gives,  a  string  slackens,  and  all  is  flat  again. 

My  horse's  hooves  that  had  often  beaten  fine  tunes  for  me 
had  no  music  that  day.  Neither  march  nor  chorus  would  stay 
with  me,  only  there  fluttered  in  the  back  of  my  head  as  I  rode 
a  faint  persistent  whimpering  as  of  someone  whom  I  knew 
in  grief.  When  I  listened  it  was  still,  so  I  took  myself  to  task 
for  a  faint-hearted  fool  and  stayed  myself  upon  the  memory  of 
that  heroical  mistress  of  mine,  how  she  had  stood,  how  spoken, 
how  looked  at  our  final  word. 

A  journey  begun  in  this  frame  should  have  been  a  sad  busi- 
ness and  left  me  with  only  melancholy  memories,  but,  thanks  to 
the  heart  of  youth  and  the  chances  of  the  road,  I  found  myself 
upborne  after  the  first  stage  or  so,  and  presently  saw  that  life 
was  a  thing  tolerable,  hopeful  even,  and  by  the  second  day, 
diverting. 

To  begin  with,  my  lady  loved  me.  A  simple  matter  this, 
you  will  say,  and  not  outside  the  course  of  nature,  but  to  me 
then  (  and  still  )  a  thing  astonishing,  wonderful  to  the  last 
degree.  My  bosom  swelled  at  the  thought;  was  I  too,  even  I, 

[400] 


CHAPTER  FORT? 


writ  among  the  band  ennobled  by  ladies'  love  ?  I  pondered  the 
singularity  of  it.  I  believe  I  sung  as  I  rode.  Later,  posting  across 
Yorkshire,  I  found  myself  smiling  upon  all  whom  I  met  like  a 
young  king  newly  come  into  his  kingdom.  The  future,  I  could 
face  it  now;  I  rode  at  it  as  one  rides  at  a  big,  black  fence  when 
the  pack  has  changed  from  scent  to  view,  and  strains  silently 
upon  a  sinking  fox.  I  could  see  the  end  of  this  run.  I  was  certain 
to  pull  through;  was  she  not  waiting  for  me  ?  She  had  said  as 
much. 

Lord,  what  a  thing  it  is  to  see  one's  duty  plain!  Mine  was  to 
get  to  my  regiment  as  soon  as  might  be,  to  get  aboard-ship;  in 
short,  to  let  the  same  brig  that  brought  me  from  Sweden  take 
me  back  again. 

But  Hull  failed  me.  Gloom  hung  over  its  narrow  High  Street 
as  palpably  as  a  sea  fog:  gloom,  and  mutual  distrust,  and  the 
twinge  of  recent  loss,  and  fear  of  more  to  follow. 

Merchants  and  their  captains  conferred  at  corners  with  the 
longest  of  faces.  Bad  news  had  come  that  day  of  the  Baltic 
convoy,  nine  of  its  richest  bottoms  made  prize  by  the  Dunkerque 
privateers  off  Cley;  three  sunk  and  many  missing.  Two  old- 
established  houses  had  stopped  at  once;  others  would  be  com- 
pelled to  follow  suit;  men  watched  one  another  furtively,  won- 
dering whose  shutters  would  go  up  next,  for  half  the  street  was 
hard  hit  and  all  were  disheartened. 

It  was  evidently  a  black  day  for  Hull;  but  whatever  might 
be  the  loss,  enough  for  my  purpose  remained;  there  lay  the 
"Sarah  Petchell"  where  I  had  left  her,  riding  to  her  buoy  out 
in  the  swift  yellow  tide-water:  what  of  her  next  voyage  ? 

Her  owners'  counting-room  was  upon  the  first  floor  of 
Wilberforce  House.  The  name  of  the  firm  was  on  the  door: 
Syme,  Janning  and  Bayne.  The  seniors  were  out,  but  Mr.  Bayne 
would  see  me. 

I  was  shewn  into  an  inner  office  and  found  the  merchant, 

[401] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITT 

whom  I  knew  by  sight,  pacing  the  floor  impatiently,  talking  to 
himself,  and  taking  snuff. 

"It  will  not  pay,  and  what's  more  'tis  wrong.  No,  'twill 
be  another  loss!"  he  muttered  with  his  back  to  me,  unconscious 
of  my  entering;  then,  turning  on  his  heel  and  finding  me  in  the 
room,  said  with  a  preoccupied  air,  shading  his  eye  for  a  better 
view  of  me:  "Ah,  Mr.  Brayshaw  —  Langshaw  —  Fan- 
shawe!  I  am  glad  to  see  thee;  thy  packages  will  be  forwarded 
by  first  boat  to  Goole  .  .  .  But,  'twas  not  this  that 
brought  thee  here,  eh  ?  Pray  be  seated.  (  Folly,  folly! )  What 
then  can  we  do  for  thee  ?  (  Throwing  good  money  after  bad  — 
and  wrong  too! )" 

I  stated  my  errand.  He  spread  his  palms  with  the  action  of 
a  man  who  disclaims  responsibility,  and  said  I  had  come  at  an 
unfortunate  juncture,  that  no  ship  was  sailing  from  the  port 
for  the  Baltic:  I  had  doubtless  heard  the  news?  He  waddled 
twice  across  the  room  and  took  snuff  again,  after  offering  me  a 
pinch. 

"And  what  grieves  me  more,  and  touches  me  closely,"  he 
went  on,  "is  a  resolution  that  my  partners  (who  are  not 
Friends  )  have  arrived  at  this  very  day.  They  are  bent  upon 
reprisals.  They  insist  upon  fitting  out  the  brig  as  a  letter-of- 
marque  (  a  miserable  mistake!  ).  I  am  opposed  to  it  on  prin- 
ciple; I  am  overruled,  as  thou  sees.  It  is  not  only  unscriptural, 
as  I  tell  them,  but  injudicious.  (A  foolish  business,  very!  ) 
Yon  is  no  privateer!"  he  jerked  his  thumb  towards  the  brig, 
visible  from  the  window.  "Her  scantling  is  too  slight:  she  is 
not  fast  enough.  Our  tonnage-dues  have  ruined  our  model: 
look  at  her  bluff  entrance  —  see!  A  French  prize,  a  schooner 
or  brigantine,  would  be  more  suitable — they  can  lie  close  and 
beat!  She — except  upon  a  wind,  where  is  she?  Thee,  who 
has  sailed  in  her,  must  agree  with  me:  she  has  not  the  legs  for 
the  job.  ( I  tell  them  so,  but  they  won't  hear  me,  they  are  all 


CHAPTER  FORTr 


for  getting  our  own  back;  and  there's  nothing  about  that  in  the 
Sermon  on  the  Mount,  as  I  said  to  them  an  hour  since.)  She 
is  a  tub,  a  mere  tub!  I  counsel  keeping  her  for  the  coastwise 
trade  until  things  quiet  down,  but  they  are  all  for  carronades! 
—  wicked  folly!  Carronades,  thee  knows,  are  things  of  the  past; 
if  they  had  spoken  of  long  eighteens  amidships!  But  what  am 
I  saying  ?  It  is  all  wrong  together,  sinful  and  distressing,  and 
we  shall  make  another  total  loss. " 

The  good  man  whose  perplexity  engaged  my  sympathy, 
pottered  up  and  down  the  room  oblivious  of  my  presence,  wash- 
ing each  hand  with  its  fellow  as  if  endeavouring  to  remove 
the  guilt  he  foresaw  must  adhere  to  them  in  consequence  of 
his  firm's  decision. 

"Riga?  ah,  yes.  I  was  forgetting.  Thee  will  get  nothing 
from  here  or  north  of  here.  I  hardly  know  what  to  advise. 
Try  Boston  on  thy  way  south;  I  will  give  thee  a  letter  to  our 
agent  there.  London,  of  course,  will  be  thy  best  chance. " 

He  wrote  shakily  and  with  some  deletions,  and  so  far  for- 
got himself  as  to  offer  me  his  hand  as  he  gave  me  the  letter. 
I  took  it,  and  heard  him  as  I  left  the  room  resume  his  interrupted 
soliloquy,  "Carronades  and  chain-shot  'for  crippling  the 
rigging.'  Oh,  the  fools!  may  the  Almighty  forgive  me!" 

The  horse-boat  set  me  over  at  New  Holland  upon  the  Lin- 
colnshire coast,  whence  I  posted  south  to  Sleaford  without 
other  misadventure  than  a  broken  spring  which  detained  me 
half  a  day  at  some  nameless  smithy  on  the  wolds. 

The  best  inn  in  the  place  was  full  and  overfull,  for  a  cocking- 
match  was  set  for  the  morning,  upon  which,  as  I  was  assured, 
a  pot  of  money  was  depending,  sportsmen  having  journeyed 
from  as  far  afield  as  Lincoln  to  back  their  fancies. 

The  company,  though  well  satisfied  with  themselves,  were 
hardly  to  my  liking;  they  struck  me  as  raffish,  and  growing 
noisier  with  the  coming  on  of  the  wine  and  the  appearance 

[403] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALirr 

of  the  cards  set  me  thinking  of  bed.  Twice  was  I  invited  to 
make  up  a  quartette  by  older  men  who  plainly  regarded  them- 
selves as  in  some  way  entitled  to  exact  compliance  with  their 
wishes.  I  felt  myself  out  of  my  place,  no  private  sitting-room 
was  to  be  had,  so  I  called  for  my  candle. 

The  racket  before  day-break,  the  bawling  for  boots  and  hot 
water,  the  rumble  of  voices  below  and  the  rattle  of  departing 
chaises  let  me  know  that  my  fellow  guests  were  away  to  an 
early  appointment.  I  descended  later  to  an  empty  house  and, 
as  it  seemed,  to  a  solitary  breakfast. 

Whilst  discussing  my  rasher  and  coffee,  a  drink  that  was 
then  displacing  the  breakfast  ale  to  which  I  was  bred,  a  very 
young  gentleman  of  the  pretty-boy  species,  who  seemed  to  have 
slept  ill,  sauntered  into  the  room  blinking  and  yawning.  He 
glanced  around  him,  the  stained  and  disordered  table-linen  sur- 
prised him,  the  vacant  hat-rail  drew  out  his  lower  lip.  Ap- 
proaching me  with  a  well-bred  bow  he  asked  permission  to  sit 
at  my  table,  and,  thanking  me  in  agreeable  tones  for  my  com- 
pliance, fell  to  drumming  with  his  fingers  as  if  at  a  loss  and 
trying  to  recollect  himself. 

"Your  pardon,  sir,  but  —  this  will  be  Sleaford —  ?"  I 
reassured  him  upon  this  point,  but,  albeit  he  again  thanked  me 
with  the  politest  of  phrases,  my  words  seemed  hardly  to  reach 
him.  I  regarded  him  with  compassion  for  his  youth's  sake,  and 
could  guess  very  well  how  he  felt.  He  had  the  air  of  a  smirched 
cherub. 

"Waitah!"  said  he  presently,  addressing  himself  to  a 
fatherly  person  who  was  relaying  a  table  near,  "is  Captain 
Rook  in  the  house  ?" 

"Gone  this  two  hours,  sir." 

"Damn!  Or  the  person  they  called  the  'Count'  ?  " 

The  waiter  knew  no  one  by  that  title.  The  youth  swore 
again  with  added  emphasis  and  relapsed  into  silence.  I  shot  a 

[404] 


CHAPTER  FORTT 


glance  at  him  over  the  rim  of  my  cup  and  thought  his  lip 
twitched. 

Would  he  be  pleased  to  order  ?  The  fatherly  man  stood  ex- 
pectant; but  it  seemed  that  the  culinary  resources  of  the  house 
failed  to  allure.  A  sole?  Not  he:  had  they  red  mullet?  They 
had  none.  Nor  a  pair  of  sweetbreads  ?  These  could  doubtless 
be  obtained,  but  in  the  meantime  would  he  say  kidneys  ?  He 
would  say  nothing  so  common.  My  rashers  caught  his  eye,  he 
nodded,  "Well  done,  thin,  waitah,  mind  —  and  a  hot  plate." 
He  relapsed  into  a  brooding  silence. 

I  divined  something  wrong,  divined  even  what  the  trouble 
might  be,  but,  pitying  the  lad  from  my  heart  (  for  he  seemed 
extraordinary  young  to  be  cast  upon  this  tavern  life  ),  held  my 
peace,  and  thought  of  my  own  mistakes  at  York  and  elsewhere. 

I  would  see  this  play  out;  my  own  business  might  wait  an 
hour:  I  called  for  fresh  coffee. 

The  lad's  breakfast  lay  at  his  elbow  untouched  whilst  he 
spread  and  pressed  flat  upon  the  cloth  before  him  several  pound 
notes,  upon  which  he  pored  incredulously,  as  it  seemed  to  me, 
for  his  mouth  fell  open  as  he  looked. 

"Damme,  I  must  have  a  head  on  me  this  morning!"  he  ex- 
claimed at  last,  "for  the  devil  is  in  these  notes  —  or  in  my  eyes! 
Sir,  pardon  me,  but  what  d'ye  make  of  that  ?"  I  examined  the 
bill  he  handed  across  the  table  for  my  inspection. 

"Tis  no  note,  this,  my  dear  sir  —  Bank  of  Engraving! 
where  on  earth  did  ye  get  this  passed  upon  ye  ?  What  —  are 
they  all  'Sham-Abram  ?'  You  have  been  bit,  indeed!" 

"Faith,  ye  may  say  so:  that  lot  were  bites  and  —  and  I  am 
a  ninny." 

He  sat  back  in  his  chair  regarding  me  across  the  table  with 
eyes  in  which  his  past  folly  and  present  predicament  were 
assuming  their  due  features  and  proper  proportions.  As  the 
position  became  clear  to  him  he  grew  the  less  able  to  face  it 

[405] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITT 

out,  and  the  man  returning  with  my  tray  found  my  com- 
panion with  elbows  upon  the  table  and  head  held  between  his 
hands. 

Some  movement  of  mine  aroused  him;  he  glanced  up,  and 
finding  my  eye  upon  him  and  perhaps  some  pity  or  good-will 
in  it,  his  own  filled.  He  flushed  painfully,  he  was  just  a  boy,  as  I 
thought.  "Last  night  —  mixed  my  wine,"  he  began,  and 
stopped,  confounded  by  the  manifest  uselessness  of  regrets. 
"Sir!"  he  broke  out,  leaning  towards  me,  "You  are  a  gentle- 
man, I  am  sure  of  it!"  I  believe  I  bowed.  "Yes,  I  am  con- 
vinced of  it,"  he  ran  on  breathlessly.  "In  a  word,  I  am  in  the 
hell  of  a  scrape,  cleaned  out,  and  —  and  —  that's  not  the  worst 
of  it.  The  fact  is  I  am  a  Government  servant  on  the  business  of 
my  office,  and  have  no  right  to  be  here  at  all.  I  must  be  getting  on, 
I  must  post  to  Boston,  but  owing  to  this  damnable  chouse,  I  am 
left  without  a  guinea  to  settle  my  bill,  let  alone  for  my  posting!" 

One  can  usually  tell  by  the  ring  of  it  whether  the  tongue  is 
telling  the  truth;  I  had  never  a  doubt  of  him,  and  replied  at 
once. 

"I  am  for  Boston,  too,  as  it  happens,  and  if  you  are  travel- 
ling light,  as  I  do,  you  shall  share  my  chaise.  I  fear  it  means 
that  or  nothing,  for  our  convives  have  stripped  the  stables; 
I  am  told  the  only  horses  in  Sleaford  are  those  I  bespoke  for 
myself  last  night." 

He  jumped  from  his  seat  with  delight,  but  sank  back  with 
a  groan,  thrusting  a  hand  into  an  empty  fob. 

"For  your  bill,  permit  me  to  settle  it;  I  have  been  in  scrapes 
in  my  time.  What  say  you  to  starting  in  an  hour  ?  Waiter,  both 
on  one,  and  if  you  have  it  in  the  house,  a  couple  of  bottles  of 
that  new  Dublin  soda-water,  and  hot  rashers  to  follow  .  .  . 
Now,  sir,  your  head  is  better  already,  set  to  work  upon  your 
breakfast!" 

Our  chaise  rattled  round,  we  were  off.  The  air  revived  the 

[406] 


CHAPTER  FORTr 


lad.  He  chattered  and  laughed  as  the  wheels  trundled  and  the 
patched  white  stern  of  the  boy  bumped  the  saddle  in  front  of  us. 
A  more  mercurial  and  light-hearted  temperament  I  have  seldom 
met.  He  was  all  for  telling  me  the  story  and  object  of  his 
journey  whether  I  would  or  no;  a  confused,  rambling  tale, 
intelligible  probably  to  himself,  possibly  to  one,  like  himself, 
in  a  Government  office,  but  Greek  to  me. 

"You  see,  'tis  properly  not  our  affair  at  all,  for  old  Sir 
Moberly,  of  'the  War,'  is  at  the  bottom  of  it,  we  believe,  or 
rather  that  old  harridan  of  his,  Lady  Betty,  who  pulls  his  wires 
and  makes  him  dance. 

"We  in  the  'Foreign'  got  wind  of  it  first  from  our  man  at 
Stockholm,  and,  strictly  speaking,  'twas  no  business  of  ours  to 
pull  chestnuts  out  of  the  fire  for  Whitehall,  but,  for  once  in 
a  way,  my  chief  happened  to  be  on  speaking  terms  with  Mober- 
ly and  did  him  a  good  turn.  Twig  ? " 

I  saw  nothing  save  the  fag-end  of  one  of  those  squabbles 
and  reconciliations  which  form  the  inner  life  of  all  public 
services,  and  wondered  vaguely  who  was  to  be  sacrificed  as 
the  peace  offering. 

The  boy  ran  on :  "You  must  know  that  our  fellow  in  Sweden 
feels  he  has  slightly  committed  himself —  can't  very  well  re- 
voke —  so  tips  us  the  wink,  and  now  'tis  we  that  step  in.  The 
man  is  to  be  stopt,  and,  to  oblige  old  Moberly  (  for,  honestly, 
we  don't  think  the  game  worth  the  candle  ),  we  are  for  stopping 
him." 

"Stopping  whom,  did  you  say?"  I  asked  with  no  motive 
beyond  keeping  the  narrator  to  his  point. 

"Why,  this  man  to  be  sure;  an  ancient  enemy  of  Lady 
Betty's,  as  they  say.  It  is  said  he  grassed  a  son's  of  hers  by  her 
first  husband,  a  bad  lot,  no  doubt;  but  a  man,  and  especially 
a  woman,  must  stand  by  her  family.  Anyhow,  the  thing  is 
placed  in  my  hands,  and  here  you  see  me,  my  hunting-leave 

[407] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

stopped  (  a  bit  of  a  bore  that ),  posting  over  half  England  to 
hand  a  despatch  to  a  man  I  have  never  set  eyes  on,  and  who 
will  call  me  out,  as  sure  as  death,  when  he  sets  eyes  upon  me." 

"As  bad  as   that?" 

"Not  a  doubt  of  it,  and  that  is  where  the  fun  comes  in. 
We  of  Downing  Street  have  our  reputation  to  sustain,  you  see. 
The 'Ad. 'and  the  Horse  Guards  think  themselves  dashed  fine 
fellows,  and  call  us  'Non-combatants.'  It  is  pure  accident  — 
merest  ill-luck,  that  none  of  us  juniors  has  been  out.  We  can't 
help  it,  can  we,  if  no  one  has  seen  fit  to  call  us  out  ?  I  am  sure 
you  agree  with  me,  but  it  is  a  sore  point  with  us,  if  I  may  say 
so.  Here's  my  chance;  I  jump  at  it;  I  am  sure  of  a  run  for  my 
money.  This  fellow  is  the  hell  of  a  fellow,  six  feet  six  in  his 
stockings  —  a  smiter,  I  can  tell  you,  and,  apart  from  his  pistol, 
a  perfect  devil  with  horse-whip,  or  whatever  comes  handiest. 
So,  when  that  little  fool,  Apethorpe,  who  had  the  first  call, 
looked  shy  at  it,  'Give  it  to  me,'  says  I,  and  bay  George,  they 
did.  Aha!  the  'Admiralty '  and  the '  Blues '  won't  score  over  this! " 

"But  what  has  this  ruffian  done?" 

"God  knows,"  he  replied  unconcernedly;  "he  is  a  radical,1 
which  is  enough  for  us.  Well,  as  I  was  saying,  I  knew  what  I 
was  in  for,  and  have  the  barkers  in  my  valise.  O,  I  have  prac- 
tised my  role.  'No  fisticuffs,  sir,  if  you  please,'  I  shall  say; 
'put  down  your  mauleys,  and  name  your  friend  like  a  gentle- 
man!' I  shall  keep  a  table  between  us,  and  have  my  card  handy. 
Twig?" 

The  lad's  laugh  was  delicious;  his  absurd  delight  in  antici- 
pating his  first  affair  was  too  ridiculous  for  censure.  I  would 
help  him  later  as  way  opened. 

'Mr.  Fanshawe  informed  me  that  the  term  "radical  "  has  within  his  own  recollec- 
tion altered  its  signification  more  than  any  word  in  the  language.  Between  the  years 
1790-1828  it  was  used  as  a  term  of  reproach,  implying  active  disloyalty  tinged 
further  with  immorality,  infidelity,  and  disregard  for  the  rights  of  property.  In  some 
country  places  it  seems  still  used  as  an  insult. —  EXOR. 

[408] 


CHAPTER  FORTT 


"You  seem  pretty  confident,  then,  that  he  means  fighting?" 

"Cocksure.  He  has  been  out  before.  O,  all  the  fellows 
at  the  'War'  know  him  by  repute.  A  perfect  demon,  my  dear 
sir;  the  black  sheep  of  a  darkish-woolled  family!  Old  Moberly, 
to  please  the  King,  or  to  please  Lady  Betty,  has  kept  him  out 
of  the  services  until  now  (  tho'  the  fellow  has  interest  ),  but 
we  learned,  as  I  said,  from  little  Standish  "  ( the  lad  tossed  em- 
inent names  about  in  a  manner  that  tickled  me  mightily)  "that 
our  man  was  leaving  for  the  Continent,  shipping  under  foreign 
colours,  you  see.  We  checkmated  him,  as  far  as  Sweden  is 
concerned,  but  the  pith  of  the  thing  is  (as  we  learn  from  'Old 
Mo'  ),  that  it  wasn't  the  Northern  Powers  at  all,  but  Boney 
himself  that  our  friend  was  to  serve  under.  We  couldn't  stand 
that,  you  know.  I  take  it  the  shipping  is  watched.  That  is  not 
my  affair.  I  am  to  warn  him  off  privately  ( to  avoid  scandal 
and  questions  in  the  House  ),  and  —  personally  —  take  the  con- 
sequences. Twig?" 

"And  you  are  to  find  your  man  in  Boston  ?  D'ye  know  the 
place  ?  Have  ye  friends  there  ? " 

"Devil  a  man,  my  dear  sir!  which  reminds  me  that  I  shall 
want  at  least  one:  why — "  he  turned  to  me  as  we  sat  close- 
packed  and  looked  me  over  with  mute  approval.  "I  say  now, 
would  you  act  for  me  ?  You've  been  monstrous  good  to  me  al- 
ready, but  that  sort  of  thing,  as  you  know,  always  leads  to  more 
of  the  sort  —  and,  now  that  I  think  of  it,  I  haven't  given  you 
my  card.  Musters  is  my  name,  Adolphus  Musters,  of  the 
Dorset  branch;  the  governor  sits  for  Gatton,  ye  know.  Hi! 
isn't  that  a  kite  ?  we  see  but  a  few  of  them  near  London." 

The  boy's  mind  was  as  mobile  as  his  eye  and  flashed  back 
and  forth  at  the  challenge  of  each  new  sight  and  impression. 
The  day  was  fair  and  mild;  we  rode  with  the  glasses  down 
chatting  of  this  and  that,  recurring  at  intervals  to  his  quest, 
how  it  would  affect  his  standing  in  his  office,  the  accepted 

[409] 


MEMOIRS  OR  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

canons  for  giving  and  receiving  fire,  the  rules  as  to  distances, 
division  of  light  and  other  matters,  in  which  I  was  abundantly 
diverted  to  find  this  ferocious  young  fire-eater  deeply  versed 
and  prepared  with  opinions  upon  vexed  questions  that  might 
have  puzzled  the  doyen  of  a  military  club. 

"The  fellow  is  a  Jacobin,  not  a  doubt  of  it,"  he  remarked 
apropos  of  nothing,  but  I  knew  of  whom  he  spoke.  From  some 
official  scruple,  or  possibly  by  mere  accident,  he  still  withheld 
the  name  of  his  quarry.  "They  say  he  is  a  shocking  bad  land- 
lord: estates  vilely  mismanaged;  a  nest  of  papists  and  dissenters. 
I  hate  a  dissenter,  don't  you  ? " 

I  laughed;  he  rattled  on  with  the  glorious  irresponsibility 
of  youth.  Did  I  agree  or  demur  mattered  nothing  so  that  I 
listened  and  let  him  talk.  Nor  did  I  weary  of  his  chatter,  for 
I  saw  he  was  in  touch  with  events. 

"The  Ministry?"  he  cried  derisively.  I  had  dropped  the 
word,  he  caught  and  tost  it  back  to  me.  "Now,  I'll  be  sworn 
ye  think  the  King's  cabinet  governs  this  country,  eh  ?  You  have 
their  names  at  your  finger's  ends  ?  —  Figureheads,  my  dear 
sir,  and  like  a  figurehead  just  the  most  useless  part  of  the  ship. 
We  lay  the  course,  we  steer  —  We?  —  the  permanent  staff, 
of  course,  men  whom  ye  never  heard  of — the  half-dozen  chief 
clerks  who  govern  England !  (  My  chief,  for  one.  ) 

"Govern  it?  yes  —  not  as  absolutely  as  Melville  and  Brax- 
field  do  in  Scotland,  I  grant  ye;  they  and  their  Court  of  Session 
are  making  short  work  of  the  radicals  up  north.  Why,  a  man 
in  the  'Home'  told  me  for  a  fact — "  He  lifted  a  trap-door,  I 
peeped  into  a  dungeon,1  an  oubliette,  inhaled  the  reek  of  the 
place  —  he  was  off  again. 

1  About  this  time  persons  of  liberal  opinions  in  Scotland  were  being  sentenced  to 
transportation  for  fourteen  years  for  the  crime  of  constructive  treason,  which  a  par- 
tisan judge  had  defined  as  "  seeking  a  legal  end  by  illegal  methods."  The  evidence 
upon  which  these  unfortunates  were  found  guilty  by  packed  juries  was  such  as  an 
English  panel  at  that  time  would  have  refused  to  listen  to,  being  largely  composed  of 

[4IO] 


CHAPTER  FORTT 


"We  are,  in  a  manner  of  speaking,  omniscient;  nothing  es- 
capes us.  That  is  our  business  —  what  we  are  there  for  — 
to  know  what  is  going  on.  A  huge  machine,  you'll  be  saying, 
wheels,  wheels!  but  there  are  wheels  within  wheels,  too. 

"This  blackguard  that  I  am  running  down  at  such  pains,  im- 
agines—  if  he  imagines  anything — that  someone  high  up, 
exalted  personage,  say,  royalty  possibly,  conceives  a  distaste 
to  him.  It  may  be  so,  but  one  of  us  sowed  the  seed  and  keeps 
it  watered,  and  the  rest,  as  is  proper,  lend  a  finger  as  occasion 
serves.  Freemasonry,  ye  say?  Rule  of  the  service,  sir;  must 
pull  together,  or  where  the  dickens  would  the  nation  go  to  ? 

"By  the  by,  I  owe  ye  —  have  I  your  name  ?"  (  resettling  his 
stock  as  lordly  as  a  young  prince).  "Stop,  boy,  stay!"  he 
bawled,  forestalling  my  answer;  a  fox  was  crossing  the  road 
ahead  of  us.  "Pull  up!  Ha!  here  they  come;  I  swear  they  come; 
let  me  out  of  this ! " 

In  a  moment  there  was  not  a  pin  to  choose  between  us  in  the 
matter  of  boyishness;  we  sprang  from  opposite  doors  and  raced 
for  the  point  of  crossing. 

"Curse  it!  help  us  up!"  he  bleated,  shaky  from  overnight 
cups,  his  feet  slipping  upon  the  mossy  rail.  I  caught  him  under 
the  arms  —  he  was  light  of  bone  —  and  swung  him  to  the  top  of 
a  post  and  held  him  erect.  "A-yah!"  he  yelped  puppy-fashion, 
breathless  with  surprise  and  as  fluttered  as  a  girl  at  my  usage. 
"Thanks  —  O,  eh,  but  I  see  them!  Say,  shall  not  we  give  'em 
a  holloa?  O-ver!  gone  o-ver!  !  They  have  it!  no  need  to  lift 
'em!  Can  ye  hear  'em  ?  —  Music!  music!" 

A  score  of  heavy-timbered  hounds  came  lumbering  over  a 

extracts  from  the  works  of  Tom  Paine,  supplemented  by  speeches  delivered  by 
persons  other  than  those  upon  their  trial.  It  was  a  stupid  tyranny.  Respectable 
youths  arrested  by  the  Edinburgh  city  watch  for  a  little  rough  horse-play 
after  dark  in  the  Cowgate  would  be  packed  off  to  sea  on  a  man-of-war  before 
morning  without  trial,  or  notice  to  their  parents,  at  the  sole  order  of  the  City  Clerk. 
—Bo. 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

stale  furrow,  running  a  breast-high  scent,  a  furlong  ahead  of 
their  huntsman,  whose  heart  was  with  his  season's  entry  left 
behind  in  the  gorse.  Twang  —  Twang  —  Twang  I  he  blew 
as  he  galloped,  his  lew  ear  cocked  for  an  answering  whimper 
between  the  blasts. 

The  half  pack  topped  the  rails  by  threes  and  by  fives,  dropped 
into  the  turnpike,  flashed  over  it  with  a  patter  of  feet  and 
quick  breathing,  forced  the  blackthorn  opposite,  and  were 
away,  tolling  and  yowling  across  a  clover-layer,  shouldering  one 
another  off  the  line  for  the  lead. 

Up  came  the  solitary  rider,  his  purple  cheeks  shaking  with 
their  efforts.  "How  —  how —  ?"  he  cackled  breathlessly, 
taking  his  horn  from  this  lips  and  steadying  his  horse  for  the 
jump. 

"Two  minutes  bare,  a  clean  dog-fox  ?"  rapped  my  compan- 
ion, giving  in  brief  all  the  information  the  rider  needed. 

A  resolute  nod,  a  brilliant  grin,  the  wide  mouth  opened. 
"Thankye  kindly,  gen'lemen,  for  not  a-fouling  of  my  line. 
O-ver!"  The  wise  old  beast  rose  at  the  timber,  went  in  and  out 
of  the  road  like  a  trick  horse  at  a  fair,  and  the  moment  his 
hooves  touched  the  grass  extended  himself  valiantly  to  get  upon 
terms  with  the  racing  pack. 

"Pretty!  oh,  pretty!"  sighed  the  boy,  availing  himself  of  my 
hand  to  descend.  "That  fellow  has  slipped  his  field,  and  no  mis- 
take; there  is  not  another  soul  within  sight.  And  to  think  that 
this  infernal  radical  is  losing  me  a  week  and  a  half  of  this! 
Lord,  how  that  running  has  made  my  heart  go!  Can  ye  hear  it  ? 
pit-a-pat!  I  am  as  soft  as  butter;  'tis  the  late  hours  —  and 
play  —  and  the  other  thing.  I  will  take  less,  I  swear  I  will! 
But  I  say  —  you  didn't  strain  yourself,  I  hope,  chucking  me 
up  there  like  a  doll  ?  Jove!  you're  a  giant  of  a  fellow!  Wish  to 
goodness  —  " 

We  had  regained  the  opposite  doors  of  our  chaise,  the  lad 


CHAPTER  FORTT 


still  chattering  gleefully;  I  had  my  hands  upon  the  straps  in 
act  to  get  in,  when,  "Stay,"  says  he,  "what  was't  ye  were 
telling  me  when  I  cut  in  with  my  view  halloo  ? " 

"My  name,  was  it?  Yes,  I  think  —  well,  here  you  have 
it." 

We  were  facing  one  another  across  the  empty  chaise,  each 
at  an  open  door.  He  leaned  across,  took  the  card  I  tendered, 
glanced  at  it,  his  mouth  fell  open,  his  eyes  widened,  he  sprang 
back  with  every  mark  of  discomposure. 

"Hey  —  hey  —  hey!  —  what?"  he  stammered.  "Oh,  but 
I  say  now,  this  not  the  game  —  most  damnably  unfair,  I 
protest.  To  worm  my  orders,  my  instructions  out  of  me  —  " 
he  passed  from  panic  to  anger,  standing  braced  with  a  kind- 
ling eye. 

"What  ails  the  man?"  I  said,  seeing  him  pant  and  whiten, 
and  thinking  him  gone  suddenly  demented. 

"No,  sir,  no  —  keep  your  own  side!"  he  exclaimed  appre- 
hensively, seeing  me  coming  to  his  help  around  the  back  of  the 
chaise.  By  the  time  I  had  reached  the  spot  where  he  had  stood 
(  moving  deliberately,  amazed ,  but  nowise  vexed  ),  he  had 
darted  into  the  chaise  and  out  again  on  t'other  side. 

The  postboy  turned  in  his  saddle,  and  watched  with  the 
broadest  of  grins  the  singular  evolutions  of  his  fares. 

"My  dear  sir  —  Mr.  Musters,"  said  I,  in  what  were  in- 
tended to  be  soothing  accents,  suitable  to  his  supposed  com- 
plaint, but  he  waved  me  off,  forbidding  me  to  strike  him,  and 
offering  satisfaction. 

"Get  in,  man,"  I  replied,  "and  let  us  on  to  Boston." 

"I'll  be  hanged  if  I  get  in;  but,  if  ye  will  swear  to  keep 
your  fists  off  me,  I'll  unpack  my  weapons  and  fight  ye  here 
where  we  stand/' 

"Fight?  Who  talks  of  fighting?"  The  idea  was  prepos- 
terous .  I  would  as  soon  have  thought  of  pistolling  a  chorister 

[4i3] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  OJJALITT 

of  the  Chapel  Royal.  "Heart  alive!  What  should  you  and  I  fall 
out  about,  let  alone  fight  ? " 

"Right  y'are,  mister,"  chimed  in  the  postboy,  who  went 
on  to  beseech  us  to  continue  our  journey  before  his  horses 
should  take  cold.  But  Mr.  Musters  was  still  unpropitiated; 
keeping  his  distance,  he  began  unbuttoning  his  Petersham 
and  presently  found  and  tossed  to  me  a  letter. 

"Will  ye  do  me  the  favour  to  read  that,  Mr.  George  Augustus 
Fanshawe  ? " 

"Why,  yes,  that  is  my  name,"  said  I,  still  mystified  and 
slightly  nettled,  in  spite  of  my  amusement,  by  this  cavalier 
treatment.  "What's  this  ?"  I  added,  letting  the  cover  lie  where 
it  had  fallen. 

"Read  it,  sir,  read  it!"  he  replied,  still  edging  away.  "And 
don't  think  for  a  moment  that  I'm  avoiding  ye,  but  I  am  a  light- 
weight, a  feather-weight,  you  are  six  or  seven  stones  the  better 
man,  you  top  me  by  near  a  foot,  don't  now,  I  beg,  disgrace 
yourself  by  taking  a  brutal  advantage.  I  —  I  —  I  am  anx- 
ious—  I  am  desirous  to  give  ye  sat  —  sat  —  satisfaction;  I 
swear  I  am  —  lookye,  I'll  fight  ye  across  this  very  road,  I 
will  indeed!" 

"He  has  run  mad!"  said  I  in  desperation  to  the  postboy, 
who  assented,  with  a  rider  as  to  the  jim-jams.  "If  we  could  let 
him  blood,  now,  it  might  save  his  reason, "  I  said,  speaking  to 
myself.  The  boy  nodded,  and  dismounting  stiffly,  produced  a 
fleam  from  the  boot. 

"Us  taakes  um  wi'  us  for  'mergencies,  staggers  and  sooch," 
said  he,  keeping  the  instrument  behind  him  as  he  sidled  up  to 
his  patient;  "Easy,  ma  laad!  Soa  —  soa!  (  Stand  tha  handy  to 
set  on  his  head  whan  I  fells  him.)  "  This  was  to  me  in  a  stage 
whisper,  audible  at  twenty  paces,  but  a  lunatic,  no  more 
than  a  horse,  is  expected  to  understand  surgical  technicalities. 

Mr.  Adolphus  Musters,  with  an  enemy  on  either  flank,  a  tall 

[4HJ 


CHAPTER  FORTT 


fence  behind  him,  and  the  chaise  in  front,  sounded  a  parley. 

"Fellow!  keep  off!  Sir  —  Mr.  Fanshawe  on  your  soul  and 
life  you  will  repent  this  to  your  dying  day. " 

"Woa!  woa!  then.  Steady  does  it!  Who  waants  ta  hurt 
tha  ?  Lord,  if  I  had  but  a  twitch  to  clap  on's  nose!  Doan't 
lat  him  pass  tha,  now!" 

For  the  patient  had  thrown  himself  upon  me  as  the  lesser 
peril. 

"Sir,  I  put  it  to  ye,  is  it  decent  to  play  horse  with  a  special 
messenger  from  your  King's  Foreign  Office  ?  Colour  this  how 
ye  may,  the  tale  won't  pass;  decline  to  fight  if  you  think  fit; 
set  this  stable-boy  to  maltreat  me  if  ye  will,  but  the  matter 
shall  nor  end  here;  and,  observe,  I  leave  ye  no  excuse,  I  have 
done  my  part;  see,  ye  are  served,  this  boy  is  my  witness! " 

He  darted  to  where  the  fallen  letter  lay,  snatched  it  from 
the  road  and  fairly  thrust  it,  seal  and  superscription  upper- 
most, into  my  hands. 

Again  his  tone  rang  true;  his  manner,  and  a  certain  dignity 
born  of  duty  performed  under  difficulty,  impressed  me.  This 
was  not  the  act  of  a  zany.  The  letter  itself  thus  forced  upon  my 
notice  bore  him  out.  My  name  faced  me  upon  the  cover;  I  stood 
more  amazed  than  ever. 

"How  came  ye  by  this,  Mr.  Musters  ?"  I  enquired,  turning 
the  thing  in  my  hand  back  and  front. 

"Be  so  good  as  to  read  it,  sir.  Yes,  it  is  for  you,"  he  verified 
the  address  by  my  card,  and  to  my  thinking  rose  an  inch. 
"  Read  —  yes,  my  part  is  done,  and  now"  —  he  wavered  slightly 
—  "I  am  at  your  service  when  and  where  ye  like. " 

Scarce  listening,  I  broke  the  seal.  It  was  an  intimation  from 
his  Majesty's  Minister  for  Foreign  Affairs  that  my  Swedish 
commission  had  been  cancelled,  and  that  in  view  of  this  cir- 
cumstance the  passport  granted  to  me  before  my  previous 
visit  to  Stockholm  had  been  annulled.  In  short,  I  was  apprised 

[4i5] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITT 

that  I  should  do  well  to  make  no  further  effort  to  leave  the 
country,  and  that  persistence  in  so  doing  would  lay  me  open  to 
the  gravest  misconception. 

I  forget  the  precise  terms :  this  was  the  gist  of  a  communica- 
tion (  semi-official,  I  fancy  they  call  it  ),  which  even  I,  unversed 
in  the  methods  of  Downing  Street,  could  not  misconstrue;  an 
embargo  veiled  under  the  form  of  advice. 

I  was  helpless,  and  tho'  ill-used,  luckier  than  I  knew  at 
the  time.  The  consideration  of  which  I  was  imperfectly  con- 
scious, and  which  at  the  moment  galled  me  unspeakably,  was 
altogether  exceptional.  Sir  Moberly,  if  that  were  his  name 
( I  had  never  heard  of  him  ),  had  gone  out  of  his  way  to  gild  the 
pill  he  prescribed.  A  poorer  man  than  I,  one  without  my 
parliamentary  interest,  would  have  been  arrested  out  of  hand. 
The  baronet  undoubtedly  credited  me  with  occult  powers  and 
sinister  designs,  my  surrender  of  my  patronage  to  Abel  being  an 
action  incomprehensible  to  the  sordid  borough-mongers  of  the 
party  in  power.  Yes,I  was  fortunate  in  exciting  a  certain  amount 
of  fear,  but  for  which  I  had  without  doubt  been  left  to  rot  in 
Holloway  until  released  by  death,  or  by  the  lapsing  of  the  sus- 
pension of  the  Habeas  Corpus  Act.1 

This  was  a  facer.  My  scheme  of  things  went  down  and  lay 
where  it  fell;  there  was  no  coming  up  to  time  after  such  a 
knock-out  blow  as  this.  I  must  needs  put  up  with  it:  no  feasible 
alternative  presenting  itself  to  me  at  the  moment. 

I  would  go  back  home  again  and  think  it  over.  In  the 
meantime  I  stood  there  in  the  empty,  long  Lincolnshire  turn- 
pike while  a  man  might  count  three  score  slowly,  watched  by 
my  companions. 

The  consciousness  of  their  presence  and  curious  scrutiny 

*A  suspension  which  had  hung  like  a  blight  over  England  for  years  past,  a  sort 
of  gloomy  inter-lunar  cav«  through  which  the  liberties  of  our  country  passed  between 
the  promise  of  freedom  under  Pitt  and  its  fulfilment  under  Russell. — EXORS. 

[4l6] 


CHAPTER  FORTr 


at  last  aroused  me  to  the  need  of  decision.  My  eye  had  roved 
from  the  boy  to  little  Mr.  Musters,  impartially  unconscious  of 
seeing  either.  The  boy  stood  my  gaze  unconcernedly  enough, 
the  other  shifted  a  foot  uneasily,  apprehensively;  the  movement 
recalled  me  to  what  was  due  to  others;  I  spoke. 

"  Sir,  this  letter  (  for  which  I  have  to  thank  you  ),  changes 
all  my  plans.  But  it  need  not  —  in  fact  it  must  not  incon- 
venience you.  We  have  misunderstood  one  another,  how  I  do 
not  know;  better  let  that  rest  —  " 

"Then  you  mean  to  say  you  won't  —  you  don't  —  ?" 

"Fight  ?  Ah  yes,  you  were  talking  —  well,  sir,  you  may  take 
it  that  I  won't  and  I  don't  —  except  for  something  I  can 
understand;  and  frankly  there's  nothing  between  us.  Did  I 
say  a  word  ?  —  offensive  ?  I  doubt  it.  I  am  trying  to  remember. 
No.  Come,  jump  in  then:  we  will  resume  our  journey.  Put 
that  thing  away,  boy!" 

I  held  the  door.  Mr.  Musters  re-entered  in  silent  amaze. 
I  followed;  the  boy  bestowed  his  fleam  in  the  boot,  remounted 
and  shook  up  his  cattle  for  a  start. 

At  the  first  turn  of  the  wheels  my  companion  leant  forward, 
"Hold,  where  are  we  going?  Wrong  way,  —  stop  him!" 
cried  he. 

"Why  so,"  said  I,  regarding  him  sidelong  with  anxiety,  "I 
cannot  leave  you  by  the  wayside,  Mr.  Musters;  you  are  for 
Boston,  I  understand. " 

"  But  not  now,  sir, "  said  he. 

"But  you  have  that  fellow  to  overtake  of  whom  ye  were 
speaking  —  " 

"Sir,  that  is  done.  Is  it  possible  ?  Don't  ye  see  ?  You  —  you 
are  the  fellow  —  I  mean  the  man  —  I  would  say  the  gentleman." 

As  he  uttered  these  words  he  again  grew  so  exceedingly  red, 
and  exhibited  such  renewed  signs  of  mental  perturbation  that 
my  fears  for  his  reason  returned  upon  me. 

[417] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

I  am  certainly  dense,  as  it  is  called;  even  among  the  Scots 
I  was  held  to  be  slow  in  the  uptake,  as  that  people  phrase  it. 
Yet  I  have  always  maintained  that  upon  this  occasion  I  gave 
no  exhibition  of  dulness.  Why  should  I,  unconscious  of  wrong 
done  or  intended,  conceive  myself  to  be  a  proper  object  of 
suspicion  to  my  King  and  his  ministers?  "  But  the  circumstan- 
ces," you  say.  They  did  not  fit,  I  reply.  "You  should  have  recog- 
nized," do  I  hear  you  urge  ?  Who  ?  Myself  ?  Men  have  bowed 
to  their  own  reflections  in  a  mirror  (  Mr.  Pitt  did  to  his  in  the 
tall  pier-glass  in  the  alcove  of  the  parlour  at  Clarges  Street; 
it  was  called  Pitt's  glass  ever  after ).  No,  no!  my  young  friend, 
you  are  mighty  perspicacious  —  after  the  event! 

"Indeed,  sir,  you  are  the  gentleman,"  repeated  Mr.  Musters. 

"Then,  sir,  all  I  can  say  is,  ye  have  stopped  the  wrong  man. 
I  do  not  answer  to  the  description.  The  person  as  ye  described 
him  a  minute  back  was,  let  me  see  —  a  black  sheep  of  low 
family,"  —  he  groaned  —  "a  devil  of  a  fellow,  a  Jacobin,  a 
shocking  landlord,  a  radical,  and  I  know  not  what  else.  Well, 
sir,  I  really  am  —  " 

"On  your  way  to  take  up  a  cavalry  commission  in  the  Swed- 
ish army!" 

"That  is  so,  though  how  ye  know  it  beats  me.  I  have  breathed 
no  word  to  you  or  any  man  of  my  plans;  the  seal  was  intact  —  " 

"Sir,  the  suggestion  is  insulting." 

"The  innuendo,  for  it  amounted  to  no  more,  was  a  thought- 
less one;  I  was  thinking  aloud,  Mr.  Musters;  pardon  me. 
Where  were  we  ? " 

"Sir,  before  I  speak  I  will  beg  you  to  control  yourself; 
I  accept  responsibility  for  all  I  said,  although  as  you  now 
know,  I  was  unaware  of  your  identity.  I  know  every  word  of 
that  letter —  how  else  ?  I  wrote  it  —  under  orders,  of  course  — 
it  originated  from  my  office.  You  are  the  man  whom  I  was  de- 
tailed to  stop.  And  now  —  " 


CHAPTER  FORTT 


The  absurdity  of  the  situation  overcame  me,  broke  upon 
me  all  in  a  moment;  I  shouted  with  laughter,  roared,  and 
would  have  rolled  if  the  straitness  of  our  quarters  had  per- 
mitted. Peal  after  peal  shook  me,  I  laughed  as  I  had  not  laughed 
for  years,  and  only  stayed  when  weak  and  helpless  with  merri- 
ment. Even  then  as  fresh  phases  in  the  misunderstanding  re- 
curred to  me  I  renewed  my  guffaws. 

"Asmiter!  —  Oh—  !" 

"I  can  only  repeat  my  offer  of —  " 

"Black  wool,  ha!  ha!" 

"At  the  first  possible  moment,  Mr.  Fanshawe,  I  am  at —  " 

"A  ruffian,  ho!  ho!" 

"Indeed,  that  was  your  own  word,  but  —  " 

"There  are  plenty  without  it!  O,  but  my  sides  ache!  And 
ye  say  that  ye  had  never  a  suspicion  ? " 

"On  my  honour,  not  the  faintest;  how  should  I  ?  Remember, 
sir,  I  had  only  your  description,  having  never  met  you  in  person." 

"Whilst  I,  though  fairly  well  acquainted  with  my  person, 
had  never  seen  the  description.  What  a  portrait!  Ho!  ho!  Who 
drew  the  thing,  may  I  ask  ?  I  am  no  judge  of  art,  Mr.  Musters, 
but  this  strikes  me  as  a  trifle  highly  coloured;  somewhat  in 
the  style  of  Gilray,  is  it  not  ?  or  might  it  not  be  a  Rowlandson, 
now  ?  Soberly,  who  furnished  these  particulars  ?  Not  this  Sir 
Moberly,  for  I  never  heard  of  the  man.  His  wife!  Is  he 
married,  then  ?  To  whom  ? " 

I  was  now  to  learn  in  how  small  an  orbit  affairs  revolve. 
It  appeared  that  the  Lady  Betty,  of  whom  I  had  heard  my  com- 
panion prating  half  an  hour  previously  with  small  interest, 
since  how  should  the  spite  or  prejudice  of  some  woman  of  whom 
I  knew  nothing  affect  me  ?  This  woman,  I  say,  was  by  her 
first  marriage  a  Ganthony,  and  the  mother  of  the  ex-cavalry 
man  whose  fall  from  grace,  trial  and  sentence  had  been  town 
talk  some  years  earlier. 

[419] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

Here  was   a   family   skeleton   of  the   heart-breaking  sort. 

Now  I  doubt  not  that  your  experience  of  skeletons  jumps 
with  my  own;  when  it  is  possible  to  keep  the  thing  in  the  cup- 
board its  existence  is  denied;  but  when  from  its  size  or  activity 
the  spectre  is  visible  and  can't  be  ignored  'tis  usual  to  dress 
the  poor  thing  up  in  the  finest  of  clothes  and  invent  some 
tarradiddle,  not  wholly  incredible,  to  account  for  its  origin  and 
deplorable  lack  of  comeliness. 

By  Mr.  Musters'  account  the  legend  current  with  the  friends 
of  poor  Lady  Betty  seemed  to  be  that  the  peccant  lieutenant 
had  been  more  sinned  against  than  sinning,  ruined  first  at 
York  and  later  in  Town  by  a  certain  epitome  of  all  the  vices, 
a  dicer,  a  duellist,  a  ruffianly  brute  of  enormous  wealth  and 
ruthless  cruelty  —  myself  in  short,  just  me. 

What  I  owe  to  the  vindictiveness  of  this  poor  lady  will  only 
appear  on  that  Day  when  the  secrets  of  all  hearts  shall  be 
revealed.  Without  doubt  her  wounded  spirit  had  sought  solace 
in  pursuing  me,  in  crossing  my  aspirations  and  blighting  my 
career,  a  retribution  made  possible  by  her  husband's  official 
position. 

I  turned  these  surprising  news  over  in  my  mind  as  we  rode 
(  my  companion  well  content  to  find  me  in  so  harmless  a  hu- 
mour and  seeing  a  proximate  ending  to  our  alarming  contiguity 
if  I  but  remained  long  enough  in  my  brown  study  to  reach 
Boston). 

Poor  woman!  I  frankly  forgave  her.  The  thought  of  what 
my  own  mother  must  have  suffered  during  my  months  of 
disgrace  and  absence  recurred  and  pained  me. 

How  a  woman  longs  for  a  man  child,  in  what  pain  she  bears 
him,  with  what  anxieties  she  nurses  and  trains  him  while 
little,  and  when  grown,  the  selfish  fellow  too  often  stabs  her 
gentle  bosom  with  his  ingratitudes,  or  puts  her  to  the  blush 
with  his  follies! 

[420] 


CHAPTER  FORTr 


These  reflections  held  me  silent  for  some  miles.  Once  I 
startled  my  fellow-traveller  with  a  question,  "But  tell  me,  sir, 
how  got  ye  my  route  ?  —  From  a  merchant  in  Hull  ? "  Again  I 
relapsed. 

The  mighty  tower  of  the  church  that  they  call  Boston  Stump 
had  been,  or  had  seemed,  so  near  at  the  time  of  our  re-starting 
that  it  had  struck  me  as  policy  to  continue  our  journey  as  far  as 
the  town,  there  to  bait  our  horses  and  to  refresh  ourselves  before 
returning  to  Sleaford. 

A  parliamentary  election  was  in  view,  the  place  hideous 
with  discordant  blues  and  yellows,  but  what  I  best  remember 
is  that  the  nominations  were  being  made  from  a  hustings  set 
up  within  the  nave  of  the  church  itself,  an  arrangement  which 
saved  the  burgesses  the  expense  of  a  town  hall  and  put  to 
some  visible  use  an  enormous  building;  but  in  odd  taste,  surely. 

We  left  to  the  boy  the  choice  of  a  hostel;  (  it  was  the  Pea- 
cock and  Royal ).  At  the  door  of  the  room  Mr.  Musters  hung 
back.  "  Pardon  me,  Mr.  Fanshawe,  but  if  this  means  more  of 
your  hospitality,  I  —  really,  you  know  —  an  affair  of  this  sort 
must  be  conducted  according  to  rule,  mustn't  it,  now  ?  I  appeal 
to  you,  sir.  Here  I  may  be  said  to  be  on  neutral  territory, 
whilst  once  inside  that  door  —  " 

"At  least,  Mr.  Musters,"  said  I  —  seeing  there  was  nothing 
for  it  but  an  explanation,  and  thinking  it  best  to  meet  this 
punctilious  young  gentleman  with  punctilios — "at  any  rate, 
sir,  we  cannot  discuss  an  affair  of  honour  in  a  tavern  passage.  A 
private  apartment  is  a  necessity;  here  is  one;  your  entering 
commits  you  to  nothing. " 

He  bowed,  and,  after  a  moment's  hesitation,  preceded  me  hat 
in  hand,  but  declined  to  sit.  His  boyish  face  betrayed  perplexity, 
vexation,  but  not  apprehension  for  his  personal  safety,  and  I 
did  not  fail  to  observe,  with  an  inward  smile,  that  he  no  longer 
thought  it  needful  to  have  the  table  between  us. 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

"And  now,  my  dear  sir,"  I  began,  "let  us  attempt  to  arrive 
at  a  creditable  understanding.  Here  we  find  ourselves,  two 
gentlemen  of  family,  who  have  been  so  unfortunate  as  to 
have  mutually  given  one  another  cause  for  resentment.  The 
situation  is  unusual,  for  neither  of  us  has  a  friend  —  if  I  under- 
stand you  —  within  a  couple  of  days'  posting. " 

"And  as  principals,  Mr.  Fanshawe,  we  cannot  possibly 
confer,  can  we?  It  is  most  irregular!"  interjected  my  an- 
tagonist. 

/.  "Not  to  be  thought  of,  my  dear  sir;  but  —  a  moment,  if 
you  please, "for  he  had  moved  towards  the  door  deliberately 
and  with  something  of  regret  as  it  seemed  to  me.  "As  princi- 
pals, no;  but  as  seconds,  eh  ?  you  take  me  ?  I,  for  example, 
am  already  empowered  to  act  for  ye,"  he  started,  considered 
and  assented  with  a  nod.  "Well,  Mr.  Musters,  what  better 
compliment  can  I  pay  ye  than  to  request  your  good  offices 
upon  my  behalf?  So,  that's  arranged,  we  each  act  as  friend 
for  the  other;  now  we  may  speak  freely." 

He  brightened  at  my  suggestion,  we  drew  in  chairs,  and  call- 
ing for  a  bottle  of  claret,  prepared  to  unravel  the  knot  if  it 
took  a  day  and  a  night. 

He  broke  silence  as  soon  as  the  drawer  had  closed  the 
door,  "I  really  think— " 

7.  "By  your  leave,  sir,  for  whom  are  ye  speaking,  or  rather 
in  what  person  ?  Since  our  capacities  are  somewhat  mixed,  had 
we  not  better  conduct  our  conference  in  the  third  person  ? 
refer  to  our  principals  by  name,  eh  ?" 

He."  I  take  ye;  well  then—  " 

7.  "One  moment  —  the  question  is,  who  shall  speak  first. 
We  might  claim  precedence  on  the  score  of  having  been  first 
instructed,  but  we  waive  the  privilege.  What  say  ye  to  bor- 
rowing the  practice  of  a  court  martial,  where  I  am  told  the 
junior  has  first  say  ?" 

[422] 


CHAPTER  FORTr 


He.  "That  is  we,  us,  I  mean,  for  I  am  lots  younger — " 

/.  "Speaking  as  second,  Mr.  Musters,  you  are,  but  your 
man,  Mr.  Fanshawe,  is  twenty-seven  or  so,  and  I  —  we,  repre- 
sent the  younger  principal. " 

He.  "  But  surely  ye  will  grant  it  to  me  —  us,  I  mean,  as 
the  insulted  party  ? " 

I  bowed,  detecting  a  flaw  and  conceding  the  point. 

He. "  Well  then,  sir,  I  am  to  tell  you  that  I — you — we — "he 
nodded,  checking  himself  offupon  his  fingers,  to  maintain  clarity 
of  head,  "demand  satisfaction  to  myself,  that  is  you,  of  course, 
for  some  most  damnably  scandalous  expressions. " 

/.  "Used  in  good  faith,  I  think?" 

77*.  "Undoubtedly." 

/.   "And  under  a  misapprehension  ?" 

He."  Certainly." 

/.  "And  since  regretted  and  withdrawn  —  practically?" 

He.  "Er  —  yes,  nevertheless  —  " 

/.  "And  condoned,  practically,  by  your  principal?" 

He.  "Urn  —  y  —  yes,   but—" 

7.  "Well,  we  have  agreed  on  the  facts,  and  that's  a  good 
thing,  for  it  would  be  wearisome  to  have  to  refer  back  to  our 
principals. 

"Now,  upon  the  facts  I  submit,  sir,  that  in  the  absence 
of  fresh  offence  (  which  ye  don't  allege,  ye  know  ),  your  man 
has  no  good  quarrel;  and  I  go  further,  I  decline  —  decline  ab- 
solutely to  allow  my  man  to  meet  him. " 

He.  "Oh,  I  say  now,  Mr.  Fanshawe  — " 

7.  "Hush!  my  dear  sir,  we  must  stick  to  our  characters — " 

He.  "But  I  thought  —  " 

7.  "Well,  then,  a  word  in  your  ear;  a  principal  (that  is 
yourself )  is  bound  by  the  decision  of  his  second  (  that's  me  ), 
and  7  say,  your  second  says,  d'ye  hear  ?  that  upon  this  ground 
ye  can't  and  shan't  fight." 

[423] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

He  considered  the  point  with  pursed  lip;  its  cogency  appealed 
to  him.  "We  must  play  the  game,"  said  he  with  a  sigh.  "And 
now,  sir,  'tis  your  turn;  I  am  all  attention  and  may  as  well  say 
at  once  that  we  are  ready  to  give  you  full  satisfaction. " 

7.  "Not  so  fast,  sir,  we  have  made  no  demand  upon  you 
as  yet:  why  should  we  ?  we  are  not  the  insulted  party. " 

I  bowed  to  him  across  the  board  as  I  spoke  with  all  the 
gravity  I  was  master  of;  our  eyes  met:  a  medley  of  expres- 
sions contended  for  precedence  in  the  pleasant  young  face, 
surprise,  chagrin,  temper,  amusement;  the  last  won,  a  smile 
flickered,  broadened,  broke  into  the  ringing  laughter  of  boy- 
hood. By  a  common  impulse  our  hands  met  and  were  held. 

"Well,  I'm  —  "  cried  he,  expressing  an  opinion  about  him- 
self which  I  did  not,  and  do  not  share,  and  which  was  mighty 
premature,  to  say  the  least  on't. 

"And  now  what  shall  we  do  ?"  asked  he  with  all  the  air  of 
a  man  that  has  lost  the  last  coach. 

"Do?"  I  echoed.  "Why,  man,  as  we  cannot  fight,  let  us 
feed.  Feast  if  you  will,  Mr.  Musters,  for  I  think  ye  breakfasted 
ill,  and  I,  at  any  rate,  am  sharp-set."  I  drew  down  the  bell-cord 
sharply.  "What  d'ye  say  to  red  mullets  ?"  he  coloured,  smiling, 
"with  sweetbreads  to  follow"  —  he  laughed  outright;  "and 
whatever  they  have  in  the  house  for  a  roast,  with  a  couple  of 
bottles  of  comet  port  ?  Did  ye  hear  that,  waiter  ? " 

If  I  thought  to  have  done  with  his  passion  for  pistols  I  was 
mistaken :  with  the  walnuts  he  was  at  me  again. 

"The  fact  is,  Fanshawe,  you  are  too  good.  I  feel  myself  in  a 
false  position.  I  am  not  squeamish  as  to  small  debts  as  a  rule, 
I  assure  ye.  But  this  is  another  matter;  it  isn't  the  amount,  nor 
your  delicacy  in  —  " 

"My  dear  Musters,  I  don't  follow  you.  Kindly  pass  the 
crackers  —  thanks!" 

"No,  Fanshawe,  I  am  going  to  have  my  say.  Well,  I  am 

[424] 


CHAPTER  FORTT 


convinced  that  you  would  really  like  to  have  a  shot  at  some 
one  over  this  business,  but  out  of  the  mistaken  kindness  of 
your  heart  you  bar  me.  Now,  I  swear  I  don't  want  to  be  barred. 
Quite  the  other  way.  You  do  me  no  kindness  in  putting  me  off. 
You  have  no  conception  what  a  roasting  I  am  in  for  when  I 
shew  myself  at  Downing  Street! " 

"Preposterous!  Seems  to  me  ye  hit  my  line  off  cleverly  at 
Hull,  and  stuck  to  it  well,  and  ran  into  me  rather  prettily 
for  so  young  an  entry.  What  does  your  chief  expect  ? " 

"Oh,  'tis  not  my  chief  I  am  funking,  but  all  the  office 
knows  I  am  travelling  armed.  They  will  naturally  expect  — 
I  say,  now,  we  couldn't,  could  we  ?  You  wouldn't  care,  I  sup- 
pose ?  merely  to  oblige,  don't  ye  know,  to  —  to  —  to  —  " 

"  Pick  a  little  gentle  quarrel  with  you  ?  You  blood-thirsty 
young  salamander!  No,  I  fear  I  cannot  oblige  ye.  Think,  now, 
how  it  would  look.  Here  we  sit,  cheek  by  jowl,  twin  turtles  on 
a  bough  not  more  amicable.  Have  we  not  posted  together,  dined 
it,  wined  it  ?  I  couldn't  really,  for,  despite  your  Lady  Betty,  I 
have  still  some  rags  of  reputation  to  lose. " 

"Dash  it  all!  perhaps  I  shouldn't  have  asked  it.  Yet  'tis  too 
provoking;  I'd  give  anything!  I  say,  Fanshawe,  I  may  rely 
on  your  judgement,  I  take  it?  You've  had  your  shot  before 
now,  they  said;  you  know  what  a  gentleman  may  and  may  not 
do,  I  mean." 

"I  have  acted  in  both  capacities  before  to-day." 

"Begad,  ye  have!"  the  lad's  eyes  burned  with  the  foolish 
hero-worship  of  boyhood. 

"I  will  not  advise  you  wrong,  Mr.  Musters.  I  appeal  to 
your  own  good  heart.  Whatever  you  did  I  should  fire  in  the  air, 
whilst  if  ye  winged  me  —  shot  your  host  —  think!" 

He  did  think,  and  sighed  anew. 

For  myself,  I  never  felt  less  like  sighing.  My  scheme  of  life 
had  been  re-arranging  itself  these  two  hours  past.  I,  so  to  speak, 

[425] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITT 

saw  my  line,  and  was  marking  my  places  —  was  impatient 
to  be  having  a  smack  at  them. 

This  boy's  comical  face  of  disappointment  tickled  me. 
"You  are,  by  no  fault  of  yours,  a  day  behind  the  fair,  Mr. 
Musters.  Had  ye  caught  me  ten  days  ago  there's  no  saying  what 
folly  I  might  not  have  been  capable  of !  Posting  up  to  West- 
minster, perhaps,  to  pull  the  noses  of  Sir  Moberly  and  your 
chief,  since  one  cannot  very  well  call  a  lady  out.  But  things 
have  taken  a  turn  with  me.  Look  at  me.  Do  I  strike  ye  as  a 
desperately  disappointed  fellow  ? " 

I  was  striding  up  and  down  the  room  awaiting  our  chaise, 
rosy  with  hopes  and  as  happy  as  a  school-boy  off  for  the  holidays. 

For  twopence  I  would  have  told  this  little  fellow  my  good 
luck. 


[426] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A 

PERSON  OF  QUALITY 


CHAPTER  FORTY-ONE 
JUST   A   WOMAN 


THIS  journey  of  mine,  begun,  as  I  have  said,  with  a 
heart  attuned  to  the  movements  of  a  funeral  march, 
had  very  soon  bid  good-bye  to  minor  chords  and 
muted  trumpets.  The  time  had  quickened  daily;  all  the  way 
from  Humber-side  to  Sleaford  my  post-horses  had  rapped  the 
roads  to  some  old  regimental  quickstep;  it  was  reels  and  contre- 
danses  since,  faster  and  sprightlier;  the  Highland  pipes  skirled 
in  my  head  as  I  had  heard  them  on  autumn  nights  beside  the 
fire  of  pine-roots,  whilst  kilted  gillies  and  barefoot  lasses 
spun  upon  the  floor. 

Now  that  I  set  my  face  northward  again  no  tune  could  keep 
pace  with  my  spirits  save  a  wild  air  without  an  English  name, 
to  which  my  Irish  were  used  to  jig  when  at  their  merriest. 

And  behold  a  wonder!  My  return  journey  witnessed  the 
reverse  of  the  exhilarating  buoyancy  which  I  have  described; 
the  nearer  I  drew  to  where  I  longed  to  be  the  more  did  I  fear 
my  fate.  My  spirits  fell,  my  mind  clouded,  I  found  myself 
every  day  more  peevish,  lonely,  irritable  and  impatient  to 
face  what  I  dreaded  and  be  done  with  it. 

The  loss  of  my  commission  and  final  ruin1  of  my  military 

"As  I  thought  at  the  time  ;  the  Future  with  its  Grief,  its  astonishing  Experience* 
and  long  Evening-Tide  of  Mercies  being  mercifully  hid.  —  G.  F. 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

hopes  had  little  or  nothing  to  do  with  this  state  of  mind  ;  in 
some  way,  how  I  cannot  say,  I  had  come  to  an  understanding 
with  myself  as  to  that,  and  regarded  myself  as  absolved  from 
further  efforts  to  reach  the  front.  I  had  offered  my  sword  not 
once  nor  twice,  it  had  been  declined;  I  was  even  willing  to 
recognize  the  finger  of  Providence  in  this  interposition,  per- 
haps (  for  I  am  mighty  like  the  rest  of  mankind  ),  because 
this  embargo  fell  so  patly  with  my  hopes  in  another  direction. 

Yet  just  because  of  this  stoppage,  its  singular  timeliness, 
and  all  that  it  meant  to  me,  and  all  that  I  saw  hinged  upon  it, 
I  found  myself  less  hopeful  of  winning  my  mistress  than  I 
had  been  whilst  years  of  separation  and  danger  seemed  to  lie 
between  my  hope  and  its  fruition. 

I  had  not  earned  her.  That  God  should  place  in  my  hands 
this  marvellous  gift  simply  as  a  gift,  and  not  as  a  reward, 
seemed  to  me  a  thing  unnatural.  It  seems  so  now.  I  am  no 
theologian  and  cannot  explain  farther  the  workings  of  my 
mind;  leave  it  at  this  —  that  works  would  win  me  heaven  I 
did  not  think,  but  that  works  might  win  me  a  wife  I  did;  and 
finding  myself  denied  scope  and  yet  thrown  back  into  the 
neighbourhood  of  my  lady,  I  feared  it  would  be  only  to  learn 
finally  that  she  was  not  for  me. 

This  idea  grew  almost  to  the  verge  of  conviction.  Stage  by 
stage  the  traveller  got  more  sober,  dowie  (  as  Gunn  would 
have  said  ),  and  anxious.  The  time  was  changed  in  truth  —  not 
scherzo,  nor  allegro,  only  andante;  and  by  when  I  had  crossed 
the  hills  and  was  jolting  down  westward  into  my  own  county 
I  was  so  well  persuaded  of  my  lady's  perfections  and  my  own 
exceeding  unworthiness  as  to  have  near  lost  hope  altogether 
of  winning  her. 

That  this  view  of  the  Almighty's  attitude  towards  His 
creatures  was  unsound  must  be  obvious  to  you  all:  we  daily 
enjoy  what  we  did  not  earn  and  do  not  deserve. 

[428] 


CHAPTER  FORTY-ONE 


That  my  frame  was  unreasonable  from  the  purely  human 
standpoint,  goes  without  saying.  Consider  our  parting.  Such 
despairs  were  as  little  warranted  by  the  circumstance  as 
were  the  buoyant  confidences  which  had  shortened  the  miles 
for  me  along  this  very  road  nine  days  before. 

Be  that  as  it  may,  a  lover  is  not  a  reasonable  being,  as  all 
the  world  knows,  save  the  lovers;  and  upon  the  night  I 
reached  my  place  I  was  as  poor  a  figure  of  the  jolly  sweet- 
heart hastening  to  his  mistress's  arms  as  ye  could  have  found 
had  ye  hunted  England  over. 

Laugh  at  me  if  you  will  (  I  myself  have  laughed  at  myself  ), 
but,  having  enjoyed  the  comedy,  pause  awhile  and  think.  I 
swear  I  do  not  grudge  you  a  moment's  honest  merriment  so 
there  be  no  scorn  in  your  grin. 

But,  put  it  to  your  own  heart,  my  friend  —  (  'tis  to  a  man  I 
am  speaking  )  —  are  you,  are  we,  are  the  best  of  us,  tried  by  any 
test  or  standard,  worthy  of  the  wives  we  win  ?  What  ?  you  are 
silent!  And  now,  perchance,  you  will  pardon  a  fellow  of  five- 
and-twenty  for  being  of  the  same  judgement  as  is  the  average 
man  of  fifty,  when  some  smooth-cheeks  of  a  freebooter,  flying 
the  lover's  red  ensign,  lays  him  aboard  and  demands  —  his 
daughter!  Think  of  the  outrageousness  of  the  request;  consider 
its  calm  effrontery;  the  aggressor  has  not  a  tittle  of  claim,  no 
shadow  of  legality;  he's  just  a  common  marauder.  If  he  had 
asked  for  his  victim's  purse,  for  his  watch  and  seals,  had  he 
clapt  pistol  to  his  man's  head  until  with  quaking  hand  he  had 
signed  some  bond  or  engagement,  now,  there  had  presently 
been  a  Bow  Street  runner  on  his  tracks;  but  since  it  is  merely 
a  daughter,  the  light  of  the  man's  home,  the  apple  of  his  eye, 
the  law  will  take  no  cognizance  of  the  affair,  and  ten  to  one  the 
pirate,  hostis  gentium  though  he  be,  gets  off  clear  with  his 
prize,  amidst  some  huzzahing  from  the  rest  of  the  fleet. 

What's  this,  I  ask,  but  marriage  by  capture.  At  bottom 

[429] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

we  are  savages  still.  (  And  long  may  we  so  remain:  Amen!  ) 

Another  tedious  digression  ?  Truly  I  grow  incorrigible, 
but  keep  your  hearts  up;  'twill  soon  be  over. 

The  dreariest  journey  draws  to  its  end  at  last,  and  I,  frown- 
ing in  the  darkness  of  my  chaise,  with  a  face,  as  I  guess,  more 
like  a  thief's  on  his  way  to  Tyburn  than  an  honest  man's 
upon  his  own  acres,  reached  the  tall  stone  posts  at  the  be- 
ginning of  the  avenue. 

The  wind  had  chopped  round  to  the  south,  the  day's  frost 
was  going  out  of  the  ground  in  fog;  so  thick  was  it  that  the 
horses  twice  left  the  road,  so  that  I  alighted  and  led  the  beasts, 
for  the  boy  was  strange  to  the  place,  and  at  the  last,  in  pity 
for  his  fears,  I  paid  and  released  him,  lest  he  should  fail  to  find 
his  way  back;  for  beneath  the  oaks,  which  still  retained  much 
leaf,  it  was  darker  than  many  a  midnight. 

Thus,  carrying  my  valise,  and  feeling  my  way  from  post 
to  wall,  and  from  wall  to  door,  I  stood  at  length  unannounced 
and  unexpected  under  the  porch  of  the  lodge. 

The  front  of  the  house  shewed  no  light  at  any  of  its  windows. 
I  listened;  no  sound  of  life  pierced  the  wet  blanket  of  fog  save 
the  quick  drip  from  the  tree  and  the  muffled  rattle  of  head- 
stall chains  from  the  stables  where  Abel's  nags  would  be  clean- 
ing up  their  night's  baits  before  lying  down. 

I  lifted  the  latch  —  (  upon  my  lands  there  has  never  been 
need  for  those  bolts  and  chains  and  window-bars  with  which 
men  upon  neighbouring  estates  have  sought  to  fortify  them- 
selves from  the  despair  of  their  starving  labourers  )  —  the 
entry  was  almost  dark;  a  rush-wick  swimming  in  grease  gave 
a  certain  scent  and  an  uncertain  light.  Still  no  sound  reached 
me  from  behind  the  three  closed  doors  I  could  see.  I  set  down 
my  burden  and  stood  listening,  feeling  half  foolish. 

Then,  without  sound  of  warning,  a  door  opened  at  the  end 
of  the  passage  and  from  the  dark  room  beyond  my  little  mis- 

[430] 


CHAPTER  FORTY-ONE 


tress  slipt  out  into  that  flickering  dimness  and  stood.  The 
floating  wick  flared  for  a  moment,  the  light  fell  upon  us  both, 
deepening  the  lower  shadows  and  leaving  the  floor  in  mystery. 

At  the  sight  of  me  she  stood,  the  latch  beneath  her  thumb 
as  if  to  secure  her  retreat;  indeed,  her  shoulders  rose  and  her 
other  hand  lifted  the  skirts  from  her  feet  as  if  for  flight. 

My  throat  contracted;  would  she  refuse  to  meet  me  ?  Had 
she  no  word  for  me  ?  All  the  misgivings  of  my  lonely  journey 
crowded  upon  me,  tied  my  limbs  and  checked  my  tongue. 

Thus  we  stood  for  perhaps  a  breath  (  which  seemed  long  ). 
I  thought  her  eyes  dimmer  and  her  cheek  paler,  her  hair  too, 
seemed  in  some  disorder  —  had  she  been  crying  ?  A  choking 
wave  of  pitying  love  rose  in  me. 

Then  she  moved;  thrusting  her  little  face  towards  me,  still 
holding  by  the  latch,  she  bent  upon  me  such  a  look,  such  a 
strange,  yearning  regard,  wonder,  love  and  fear. 

Her  lips  parted,  the  sounds  travelled  the  space  between 
us  soft  as  a  sigh,  mere  syllabled  thought  not  meant  for  a  warm 
live  human  ear. 

"So  soon!  —  not  killed,  then;  —  drowned  —  as  I  feared  — 
and  I  sent  him  to  it  —  O,  how  I  prayed  for  this,  and  now 
it  comes  I  am  so  afraid!" 

As  she  ceased  she  released  the  latch  and  came  faltering 
towards  me  into  the  light  with  little  half-reluctant  steps,  her 
face  convulsed,  her  wide  eyes  shining  in  the  flicker.  There  were 
tears  still  wet  upon  her  cheeks. 

And  now  it  was  I  who  should  have  spoken.  I  have  said  so 
since  a  hundred  times  and  blamed  (  or  blessed  )  my  unreadi- 
ness. The  passage  is  of  no  length;  in  six  steps  she  was  close, 
her  face  working,  her  sweet  young  body  shaken  with  its 
alarms;  there  was  just  the  least  pause,  my  hands  and  lips 
moved  (she  says),  and  "//  is  alive!"  she  cried,  low  and 
hurried;  "George!"  and  ran  into  my  arms. 

[43i] 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY 

There  she  hung,  wetted  by  the  fog-drops  which  clung  to 
every  hair  of  my  frize  coat  and  gave  me  in  that  half-light  the 
seeming  of  a  corpse  risen  from  the  waters;  the  wet  fell  from 
my  cap-peak  and  brows  upon  her  upturned  face.  What  cared 
she  ?  Her  warm  mouth  pressed  hard  to  mine  in  long,  breathless, 
silent  kisses.  Our  very  souls  met  in  that  embrace. 

"Oh,  thou  art  come  back  to  me  alive  —  alive!  Art  thou 
alive,  truly  ? "  My  pressure  reassured  her.  Again  our  lips  met. 

"Ah,"  she  whispered,  "this  is  more  than  I  deserve;  far 
more!  I  thought  myself  so  strong;  I  sent  thee  away,  but  that 
night  I  broke  down.  I  was  like  a  wild  thing;  I  seemed  mad  to 
myself  and  to  mother,  and  next  morning  I  rode  over  to  bid 
thee  stay."  She  hid  her  face;  I  felt  her  quiver.  "Only  mother 
knew,"  she  whispered.  "Oh,  how  I  rode!  That  poor  horse! 
And  after  all  I  was  too  late  —  thou  wast  gone. 

"Then  news  came  of  the  Hull  ships;  it  seemed  as  though  I 
had  killed  thee.  I  prayed  —  oh,  how  I  prayed!  I  was  on 
my  knees  just  now  in  there.  But  what  a  thing  I  am!  no  faith! 
I  had  given  thee  up,  made  sure  thou  wast  dead  —  drowned.  I 
was  praying  that  any  way  I  might  know  what  had  happened; 
that  thou  might  be  permitted  to  come  —  to  appear.  And  now! 
Is  it  not  wonderful  ?  Is  it  not  true  where  it  says, '  He  is  greater 
than  our  hearts?'  He  does  not  use  us  after  our  deservings; 
He  grants  more  than  we  dare  ask.  Thou  art  here,  alive!" 

She  poured  her  story  in  quick  hot  whispers  between  silences 
and  kisses.  Never  was  such  a  surrender:  its  completeness 
unmanned  me,  filling  me  with  humility.  For  the  second  time 
in  so  few  years  I  had  entered  a  house  a  beggar  to  find  a  fortune 
awaiting  me,  and  this  was  the  richer. 

Poor  little  heart,  what  had  it  suffered!  News  of  the  capture 
of  the  Humber  convoy  had  reached  this  west  country  grange 
two  days  before,  misdated,  and  with  each  circumstance  of 
horror  aggravated.  All  were  reported  lost,  sunk,  stranded  or 

[432] 


CHAPTER  FORTY-ONE 


taken.  That  I  had  sailed  with  it  had  seemed  certain  even  to 
the  caution  of  Abel.  I  had  not  written. 

The  wars  were  dread  times  for  women.  They  sat  at  home 
and  saw  the  ship  sail,  the  regiment  march,  and  waited,  waited 
for  the  word  which  too  often  never  came. 

Like  a  heath  fire  that  roars  here  and  dies  down  to  break 
afresh  elsewhere,  smouldering  on,  eating  into  new  ground, 
undefeated,  ever  at  its  mischief,  so  was  the  time.  The  tale  of 
slaughter  never  quite  ceased;  on  battle  days  the  earth  or  sea 
oped  wide  lips  and  gulped  their  thousands;  between  whiles  the 
list  grew  and  grew,  not  in  the  Royal  services  only,  but  upon 
every  coast  and  on  every  sea  ships  were  sunk,  burnt,  taken, 
cast  away.  Ships  sailed  away  into  the  lonely  sea  spaces  and 
were  never  reported. 

Remember  the  "Lutine."  A  king's  frigate,  the  crack  ship 
of  her  class,  with  a  picked  crew  upon  special  service,  with 
bullion  for  her  lading,  a  round  million  sterling  in  Pillar  dollars 
and  gold  doubloons,  headed  up  in  their  little  oaken  kegs,  a 
king's  ransom.  She  cleared  from  Gravesend  at  sunset  on  a 
Saturday  night,  dropping  down  with  the  ebb  ( two  Winter- 
inghame  lads  were  in  her  company  ) .  Where  is  she  now  ?  Forty 
years  have  gone  by  and  not  a  stave  of  her  has  come  ashore  on 
any  coast  of  the  world.1 

The  thought  of  these  things  pressed  upon  gentle  spirits, 
upon  women's  spirits,  with  the  weight  of  some  personal  grief; 
and  when  to  the  general  bereavement  was  added  the  pang  of 
sudden  loss,  near  and  close  and  terrible,  do  you  wonder  that 
a  brain  was  crazed  at  times  ?  From  this  I  verily  think  my  return 
saved  my  little  mistress. 

How  long  we  had  stood  thus  I  do  not  know,  for  at  crises  of 

1  Recently  there  have  been  some  barrels  of  specie  (Pillar  dollars)  recovered  from 
the  sands  of  the  Teiel,  which  have  been  attributed  to  this  ill-fated  ship,  and  handed 
over  to  the  heirs  of  her  underwriters.  —  ED. 

[433] 


one's  life  one  loses  count  of  minutes.  All  I  knew,  or  cared  to 
know,  was  that  we,  she  and  I,  had  entered  into  a  new  world 
which  seemed  as  near  to  heaven  as  might  be. 

What  a  moment!  What  was  this  that  it  had  effected,  this 
amazing  change  ?  We  were  the  same,  yet  not  the  same.  For 
myself,  I  stood  as  I  had  been  standing  since  my  entering  that 
dim-lit,  narrow  passage;  not  a  foot  had  I  lifted,  not  a  word 
had  I  uttered.  She,  my  little  mistress,  on  her  part,  had  opened 
a  door,  taken  six  steps,  or  less,  and  whispered  a  dozen  words. 

Around  us  the  faint  noises  of  the  house  creaked  and  rustled 
on;  the  slow  clacking  of  the  jack  in  the  kitchen  chimney,  tones 
of  voices  in  this  room  and  in  that,  lowered  to  the  needs  of 
friends  sitting  cozily  and  close  and  muted  by  shut  doors. 
Within,  all  was  ordered  household  peace;  and  without,  the 
dumb  thickness  of  a  world  in  its  winter's  sleep;  and  in  the 
centre  of  it  all  were  two  hearts  strained  close  and  beating  each 
to  the  other,  insensible  to  the  flight  of  time,  the  past  clean 
sponged  off  the  board,  the  future  as  though  no  future  could 
ever  be;  a  breathless,  throbbing  present  of  unutterable  bliss. 

I  was  still  a  young  man,  and  for  all  my  experiences,  younger 
in  mind  than  my  years,  and  ignorant  to  a  degree  of  human 
nature.  What  a  child  is  I  had  half  forgotten;  a  boy  I  knew; 
a  man, —  one  man,  myself  to  wit,  —  I  partly  understood;  but 
of  women  of  all  ages  I  was  most  particularly  ignorant,  and 
of  the  heart  of  a  maid  where  a  man  is  concerned  I  had  not  a 
glimmer. 

What  was  this  ?  I  began  to  tremble,  to  shake,  yet  not  with 
cold.  I  had  not  suspected  myself  of  such  scope  for  passion: 
it  was  foreign  to  my  experience  ( thank  God  for  that! )  Nor 
had  I  dreamed  of  such  capacity  in  a  woman  —  in  my  little 
mistress. 

United  at  last!  and  so  suddenly,  so  utterly.  How  shall  I  put 
it  ?  As  a  child  I  had  watched  two  raindrops  slipping  down  the 

[434] 


CHAPTER  FORTY-ONE 


pane  more  and  more  slowly,  with  little  devious  sidestarts  and 
meanderings,  nearing,  diverging,  each  going  its  own  way 
whilst  coyly  conscious  of  the  other's  presence.  A  gust  of  wind 
and  they  touch,  and  in  the  act  are  lost,  another  being  is  gained, 
a  double  life,  larger  and  fuller,  speeds  straight  and  strong  to 
its  goal. 

The  rising  latch  of  the  parlour  door  awaked  me  from  my 
dream.  I  heard  her  mother's  voice  call  Phoebe,  and  upon  the 
word  her  face  filled  the  opening.  She  took  it  all  in  at  a  glance, 
and  turned  as  she  stood  with  warning  finger  to  stay  her  hus- 
band and  Abel,  who  seemed  close  behind  her. 

The  men  saw  and  hovered  doubtfully,  struck  with  the  sur- 
prise of  what  they  beheld;  Abel,  at  least,  wholly  unprepared. 

The  mother's  light,  quick  whisper  barely  reached  my  ear: 
"Let  them  alone,  the  dears!  —  In  with  thee,  husband;  don't 
speak!  they  will  never  be  so  happy  again!" 

THE    END 


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